Into the Wilds
by NymeriaBjartskular
Summary: Before establishing the Riders, Eragon sets out to explore the lands surrounding Alagaesia. When Saphira spots thousands of urgal-like creatures marching to war, what will Eragon do when he sees that their destination is a castle of men, elves and a dwarf? Will he help destroy the forces of evil or will he turn his back on war? ERAGON/LOTR
1. Chapter 1

**AN**

**Hey there! So this is my first fanfic (yay)! Hopefully it's not completely rubbish!  
I've made a few changes to the story because I can and I think they work. Murtagh and Thorn died from their injuries after leaving Galbatorix's castle but they managed to tell Eragon the name of the Ancient Language (and he can remember it) before they died.  
Instead of Nasuada's group of magicians where you join or get persecuted, there is an Empire School of Magic. Every year, magicians go to all the towns, villages and cities in the Empire (including Surda and Teirm) and test the population. Anyone found to have any magical ability is invited to attend the Empire School of Magic. It is seen as a huge honour to be invited and any family left behind will receive compensation. Students are trained to the best of their ability and upon graduation they travel throughout the land helping others.**

**Please enjoy and if you can spare a minute please please please leave a review! NymeriaBjartskular**

**CH1**

(From Inheritance)

"_Arya, what is to become of us?" _

_She hesitated, but he could see that his meaning was clear to her. Choosing her words with care, she said, "I don't know…. Once, as you know, I would have said, 'nothing,' but…. Again, you are still young, and humans often change their minds. In ten years, or even five, you may no longer feel as you now do."_

"_My feelings won't change," he said with utter certainty._

_She searched his face for a long, tense while. Then he saw a change in her eyes, and she said, "If they don't, then…perhaps in time…" She put a hand on the side of his jaw. "You cannot ask more of me now. I do not want to make a mistake with you, Eragon. You are too important for that, both to me and to the whole of Alagaesia."_

_He tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace. "But…we don't have time," he said, his voice choked. He felt sick to his stomach._

_Arya's brow furrowed, and she lowered her hand. "What do you mean?"_

_He stared at the ground, trying to think how to tell her. In the end, he just said it as simply as he could._

(end of excerpt)

"In the last few months, Saphira and I have travelled across most of Alagaesia, all the while looking for a safe place to raise the dragons and keep the eggs and Eldunarí safe. We cannot find such a place. The Beor Mountains would be ideal, except for the fact that wherever we would be, it would only be a short flight to the nearest Dwarven settlement. The same goes for the Spine. It is too close to humans and urgals. We considered Du Fells Nangoroth in the Hadarac Desert, the ancestral home of the wild dragons, but it is not all that hard to get to. Vroengard is too well known. We need a place to raise the dragons that is unknown to all except the Riders. We need physical barriers; we need walls and cliffs too high to climb and too imposing to even attempt to try it. Most of all, we need the safety that only distance can provide. We have to make it so difficult to reach us that most won't even consider doing so and that those that do will quickly realise the enormity of the challenges facing them and discard the idea. We have to be far enough away so that even our most determined enemies will be discouraged." Eragon lifted his head, and found Arya with a shocked look upon her face.

"You can't leave! We just defeated Galbatorix! Only now is Alagaesia realising it is free! How can you just abandon the land you were raised in, fought for, almost died for? What will Nasuada do? What will Orik do?" So quiet, Eragon almost missed it, she added, "What will I do?"

"It is for the very reason that Alagaesia is now free and at peace that I must leave. Raising young dragons amidst a populated country would no doubt cause problems. As for what Nasuada and Orik will do, they are both capable leaders and are more than able to lead without me. As for what you will do," at this, Eragon gently grasped Arya's chin and lifted it so he was able to look her in the eye, "You will lead your people as I know you are able to. I will not abandon Nasuada or Orik, and I would never abandon you. I will bind my mirror to each of yours so we will be able to scry each other. I will return. I am not doing this because of Angela's prophecy. The boy she gave that prophecy to no longer exists. He has changed many times since then, for the better I think."

"Yes," she whispered, "for the better. But would you not consider staying in Ellesmera?"

"We cannot. The Riders cannot show preference for any race."

"Oh," she whispered. They both lapsed into silence.

After a few minutes, Eragon said, "However, we will not be establishing the Riders just yet." At this, Arya looked up. "Saphira and I have decided, and the Eldunarí do not oppose us in this, to explore the lands around Alagaesia first. Not only to sate our own curiosity, although that is a factor, but to find out if there are any more dragons in the world and to see if we can discover other people, be they humans, elves, dwarves, urgals or anything else. I will be taking some of the Eldunarí with me, the rest will stay with Blodgharm. I have yet to ask him, but I think he will agree. We will contact you with the scrying mirror at least once a moon's turn for your peace of mind."

"Are you going alone?"

"Well I will be with Saphira, of course, but yes, we will be alone. Do you mind?"

"What if something happens to you? What will happen to the Riders if the Lead Rider falls or goes missing?"

"I can't say that nothing will happen, because I cannot tell the future, but I have to do this. During our travels we will be searching for a place to raise the dragons. Hopefully we will find one. However, if something does happen to me, as the only other Rider, the title of Lead Rider will fall to you."

"I cannot be Lead Rider and Queen of the elves!" Arya said, raising her voice slightly.

Eragon sighed, "I doubt it will come to that, but just in case, I would like to place an incantation on you so that, if something were to happen to me or I do not contact you for one year, you will be given the knowledge of where the remaining eggs and Eldunarí are."

"Why not just tell me now?" she asked, curious.

"I cannot risk the knowledge of the location of the eggs and Eldunarí falling into the wrong hands." Hoping she would not take offence, Eragon quickly added, "It's not that I don't trust you, because I trust you not only with my life, but with my very soul, it's just that I have to take every precaution that I can."

She nodded, "I understand, of course. You have my permission to place the incantation."

"Thank you," Eragon said gratefully. I have one more request, well two actually."

Arya nodded for him to continue.

"First; I suggest that you lower some of the wards around Du Weldenvarden to allow for easier communication between the elves, humans and dwarves. Especially those around scrying, otherwise it will take a long time for messages to get from one monarch to another. Also," Eragon started to smile, "I'm sure that you want to hear my lovely voice and see my handsome face yourself rather than have someone bring you a message from outside the forest." Arya started to blush furiously and Eragon let out a deep laugh.

Trying and failing to seem angry, Arya huffed, "What are you laughing at?"

Still chuckling, he said, "I've never seen an elf blush before." Before he lost his courage, he added, "It makes you look even more beautiful than usual." Of course, this made Arya blush even more, but this time, instead of laughing, Eragon just admired her beauty.

After a few moments, Arya managed to say "Thank you," but her voice was very low. Clearing her throat, she said, "I will present your suggestion to the Council. I agree that we need have more contact with the outside world. Now, what was your second request?"

"I assume that after you meet with Nasuada you will continue on to Tronjheim to speak with Orik?" Arya nodded. "I was hoping that you could bring Roran, Katrina and their daughter Ismira with you and then on to Ellesmera afterwards. Do you think Fírnen could hold that many?"

"I would need to speak with him, but I am sure he could. Why don't you bring them?"

"I need to go and speak to Nar Garzhvog and the urgals." Arya looked at him questioningly and so Eragon proceeded to explain his plans regarding the urgals and their blood-lust, and separately, regarding the dwarves, urgals and Riders.

"The Games seem like the best solution, but regarding the other matter, do you think what you plan is wise?" Arya asked when Eragon had finished.

"I think it is necessary, and I cannot include the one without the other. I have spoken with Saphira and the Eldunarí about this, and they agree with me that this should help cut out future conflict."

"I will not argue with you. You are the Lead Rider and you know what is best," Arya said sincerely. Then she took his hand in hers and together they lay on the ground, watching the stars appear and knowing that their dragons were happy, dancing the dance of dragons.


	2. Chapter 2

**CH2**

***TWO DAYS LATER***

Having just seen off Arya and Fírnen with Roran, Katrina and Ismira in tow, Eragon now had to say his own goodbyes. _At least everyone I want to say goodbye to is already in this courtyard, _he said to Saphira, _that'll make things a lot easier. _He didn't get a reply, only a sense of sadness that Eragon assumed was from having to part with Fírnen.

He said farewell to Jeod first. "If we find anything interesting in the other lands I'll be sure to make a note of it and send it to you. Maybe you can add to Domia abr Wyrda." Jeod's reply was to hug Eragon and a muffled "Thank you" could be heard.

Next he said goodbye to Angela and Solembum. "You know, when we eventually find a place for the Riders to settle, you are both more than welcome to come anytime you like. We will always have room for you." Turning to Solembum, he said, "Any and all werecats are welcome." Looking back to Angela, he added with a grin, "And I don't think I will need to give you directions, you always seem to find your own way!"

"For once, Blockhead, you're right," she answered, with a twinkle in her eye, "And I think that I may take you up on your offer one day, although I have to watch over Elva for the next few years, make sure she doesn't cause any mischief. It would certainly be interesting to see the home of the Riders. The next time I see you, you'd better have some interesting tales to tell. Remember Blockhead, avoid purple rabbits and watch out for toads. Goodbye!" And with that, she promptly turned heel and sauntered away, humming cheerily.

_Shadeslayer, _Eragon looked down, _I thank you for your offer. I shall tell my kin. I am sure that some of them will find their way to you throughout the years. Remember Eragon Kingkiller, that duty is done for the good of the people and it is ever changing._ With that, the werecat got up and followed after Angela.

_Thank you Solembum,_ Eragon sent after the receding figure.

Eragon readied himself for his final goodbye, the toughest one. Nasuada.

"My Lady, I know you still mourn Murtagh," Nasuada looked up at him, tears in her eyes, "I mourn him too. He was my best friend and then my brother, and I loved him. I have an idea of what happened between the two of you, and I am sorry. But I think you should know that Murtagh would want you to live your life to the fullest. He died for you, for me, for all of Alagaesia. He died so that we could have a future, and you should make the most of yours. Do not forget him, but move on in your life and be happy, for him. He will not be forgotten. I swear it. The Riders will remember Murtagh and Thorn."

"Thank you Eragon," Nasuada whispered.

"You are welcome, my Queen. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have a need. I will return to this land, do not worry about that. I have faith that you will lead the kingdom well, and when I return I expect it will have entered into a Golden Age. Goodbye my Lady."

"Goodbye Eragon. Safe travels."

As he turned away to walk towards Saphira, Eragon said privately, _Jormundur, keep her safe. She will need a friend these next few months._

_Of course, Shadeslayer .Farewell._

_Farewell Jormundur._

Eragon went over the saddle-bags one more time and then leaped up on to Saphira's back.He fastened his legs on to the saddle using the leather straps. _Are you ready, partner-of-my-heart?_

_I am, Little One. Let us be off. _With a roar, Saphira launched herself into the air, driving her wings downward and causing the people below to shield their eyes against the clouds of dust that had arisen. Once in the sky, Saphira angled herself northeast and began to fly.

A few minutes later and the castle appeared on the horizon. Not long after and Saphira was touching down outside the gate. Just as Eragon was getting down, Blodhgarm came out with two other elves.

"Shadeslayer," came the greeting.

"Blodhgarm! How are you? Has there been any progress?"

"I am well Shadeslayer. There have been some minor improvements in a small number of Eldunarí. Most have to be kept asleep as they are so damaged they attack everything when awake."

A vast conscious touched every mind. _What Galbatorix did was monstrous. Death was too kind for that vile creature._

_I agree Ebrithil, _Eragon said to Glaedr, _but he is gone now and we must put right all his wrongs._

_Well put, young one, _came a thought from Umaroth.

_Thank you, Master._

"Blodhgarm, I have news to give you, and then I have a request." Eragon proceeded to tell Blodhgarm of his plans to explore the other lands and then establish the Riders. "Here is my request; will you and the others with you take guardianship of the Eldunarí while I am gone?"

A look of pride came upon the faces of the elves. "Shadeslayer, we are honoured by your trust in us. I think I speak not only for myself, but for everyone here, when I accept your offer and say that we will guard the Eldunarí with our lives," Blodhgarm replied. The two elves with him fervently nodded, with looks of joy upon their faces.

"Thank you Blodhgarm," Eragon said gratefully. "I have one more request; that you leave this castle and take the Eldunarí with you to Du Weldenvarden. That is the safest place in Alagaesia for them while I am gone. I suggest somewhere outside Ellesmera, somewhere isolated, that is easily defensible. I would like you to continue the work you have started, and if you need any help you may allow ten others to assist you, but no more than that. Ask only those whom you trust with your life, and enquire if they would like to help the race of dragons. If they wish to, and I am sorry to have to do this, but before they are told anything about the Eldunarí, they must have their minds checked by you, Blodhgarm, only you, and they must swear not to tell anyone about the Eldunarí. Even if you trust them beyond doubt. It is one secret that must remain a secret. The Queen is allowed to see the Eldunarí if she wishes, she is not included in the ten. I will also give you a mirror bound to mine so that I may communicate with you on my travels. This will be possible due to the taking down of certain wards around the forest to allow for more communication between the races."

"Very well Shadeslayer. We will do as you suggest, I am sure we will all enjoy returning to the Great Forest. We will take every precaution necessary to ensure the safety of the dragons, there is no higher honour."

Saphira lowered her snout so it was level with Blodhgarm, _Thank you, furry pointed-ear two-legs._

_You are most welcome, Bjartskular._

"Blodhgarm, I shall see you in Ellesmera in a week. Farewell."

"Farewell Shadeslayer, farewell Bjartskular."

Eragon turned and jumped on to Saphira's back. He was hardly in the saddle before she took off, flapping hard to gain height and then wheeling around so she was facing northwest, towards Lake Flam and the urgal settlements.

Flying at a leisurely pace, they camped for one night on the great plain, Saphira hunting while Eragon prepared his vegetable broth, then curling up together to go to sleep.

Late the next afternoon, they arrived at the urgal settlement. The urgals insisted on throwing a feast in honour of 'Firesword and Flametongue.' With a drink even stronger than the dwarves' best mead, Saphira got quite drunk indeed.

The next morning, with a pounding head and a bruised body, Eragon presented his ideas for both the Games and the Riders to the Herndall, the council of dams.

The Games they were eager for, but the offer to become Riders shocked them into silence. Not knowing how to take this, Eragon stood nervously, rocking on the balls of his feet, until Nar Garzhvog said, "Firesword, you do not know how much this means to my people. If you do this, you will be the greatest friend we have ever had. We will sing your song to our young and they will never forget. We are forever in your debt."

Overcome by this show of gratitude, Eragon said simply, "You will never be in my debt. I am simply doing what should have been done long ago." They proceeded to work out some of the details, with more to be confirmed in the future. Before he left, Eragon also gave the urgals an enchanted mirror, bound to his like all the others. "If you ever need to contact me," he said, "get your magician to scry me through this.

Soon after, Saphira and Eragon were back in the air, rising above the urgal encampment to the sound of urgals and kull bellowing in farewell. Saphira responded with a bone-rattling roar.

_Arya and Fírnen won't arrive in Ellesmera for at least four days. Let us take our time and enjoy our homeland before we explore the unknown._

_As you say Little One, but then we go to see my mate, _Eragon could sense feelings of lust through their connection and the tips of his ears turned red, _and the one you want to be mates with. _At this, Eragon's entire face turned crimson, and he could hear draconic laughter both with his ears and in his mind.

**AN**

**Leave a review- you know you want to!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**AN**

**Eragon will go to Middle earth for those wondering, I'm just building up to it. Also Murtagh is dead more info in AN in Chapter 1**

***FIVE DAYS LATER***

Soaring over the tall pines of Du Weldenvarden, Eragon thought back on the past few days he and Saphira had spent together.

From Lake Flam, Saphira had flown them to the ancient Rider outpost of Utgard, which overlooked the Palencar valley. Together, they had entered the ruin, only to find the skeletons of Umaroth and Vrael waiting for them. Both Eragon and Saphira were filled with sadness at seeing the former Leaders of their Order reduced to bones lying in the dust.

_I am still here young ones, even if my body is no more, _Umaroth said to them, his voice tinged with grief. _I have one request of you, if you are willing._

_Anything, Ebrithil, _murmured Eragon and Saphira.

_Would you burn my body and my Rider's, as we did of old?_

_Of course, Ebrithil._

No more words were spoken. With the help of the Eldunarí, Eragon used his magic to lift the bodies of Umaroth and Vrael outside the entrance of the outpost to hover thousands of feet above the valley below. Saphira opened her jaws and breathed fire upon the two ancient Leaders. She managed to sustain her flames for over an hour, and when she finally ceased, there was nothing left but the ash slowly drifting to the floor far below. For centuries to come, the land below Utgard would remain among the most fertile in the land, and the farmers of Palencar valley became renowned for the quality of their crops.

Eragon and Saphira stayed at Utgard for two nights. In that time, they explored the ruins of the outpost, removing any dark magic Galbatorix had left behind. They also paid a visit to Carvahall. When Eragon saw his former village, it was like a blow to the stomach. He fell to his knees, horrified at what his childhood home had become.

It had been razed to the ground.

The only thing left standing was a single headstone in the graveyard. Every house in the village had been pulled down and burned. Morn's tavern was gone. So was Horst's magnificent house. The well in the centre of the village had been pulled down. Worst of all, Eragon could sense that the land in and around Carvahall had been sown with salt, preventing anything from ever growing there again. For a farming community, it would devastate the villagers when they returned. They wanted to live in their ancestral home, but they would have to find a new place to live if they could not farm.

Resolved, Eragon rose to his feet, lifted his hands and said, "Salann, risa" (salt, rise). Slowly, all around him, particles began to rise into the air. They came towards Eragon, grouping together as they did so. Eventually, there was one large piece of salt, the size of a small boulder.

Eragon released the flow of magic, and the salt dropped on to the ground in front of him. He was disgusted at how low the soldiers ransacking the town had fallen to. Even after the Carvahall had been destroyed and its inhabitants forced to leave, they had made sure that if the villagers did return, that they would not be able to stay.

_Well,_ Eragon thought, with a grim smile, _they had not counted on me. I'll give this to Roran. This amount of salt should last the whole village for a few years._

_Are you alright Little One? _Saphira asked concernedly. _You seem both angry and pleased._

_I am fine Saphira. I am angry at the soldiers who did this, but I am happy that I can turn their malice into a valuable resource for the villagers. They would never be able to afford this much salt. I suppose that every cloud does have a silver lining._

_What a silly phrase, _Saphira huffed, _I have flown through many clouds and none of them are silver. You humans are very odd._

Eragon laughed. _You are right, of course, O Mighty Dragoness, Queen of the Skies, The Great-_ "Ouch! Saphira what was that for?"

_You were rambling. So I stopped you._

_You smacked me with your tail._

_Well it worked, didn't it?_

"Whatever. Can you please move your tail off me so I can fix the well?"

_Of course Little One._

"Grumpy dragon," Eragon muttered under his breath.

_What was that you said?_

_Nothing._

_That's what I thought._

Ten minutes later and they were in the air, flying towards Garrow's farm. Saphira set Eragon down and then wandered over to her old home among the trees.

The farm was nearly completely reclaimed by nature. Only a few wooden posts remained visible. Not wanting to stay any longer than necessary, Eragon quickly constructed a hut to leave the salt in for Roran to find, casting a few spells over it to keep out animals and the elements.

Hurrying over to Saphira, he found her with her head stuck up a tree.

_I can't believe that I used to fit in here, _she mused.

_Me either. You were much cuter back then._

_Watch it Eragon, _she warned, _I will drop you the next time we're flying._

_You know I didn't mean it. You are the most beautiful creature to ever walk in Alagaesia, and you will always have my heart._

_I love you, Eragon._

_I love you too, Saphira._

The third night of their journey they spent beside Lake Isenstar. Wanting to go for a swim like they once had in Leona Lake, Saphira insisted that they visit the lake beside Gil'ead.

While they both held deep dislike for Gil'ead itself, the lake was beautiful. Deep and cool, with schools of fish, swimming was entrancing. Unlike they last time they swam together, this time Eragon was able to stay underwater much longer by ways of a spell that kept a bubble of air around his head. That night, they camped by the lakeshore, and fell asleep watching the stars.

Their fourth night they spent in the mountains in the west of Du Weldenvarden. Saphira had been there before with Glaedr, and she showed Eragon her favourite places to visit. Like the rest of the forest, the mountains were teeming with life, plant as well as animal. They saw bears and goats from the sky, as well as large herds of deer in the valleys between the mountains, which Saphira promptly terrified when she filled her belly with them. Before they went to sleep, they heard the howling of the wolves prowling the mountainside.

_Eragon, we are almost there._

Eragon shook himself out of his memories, realizing that they were about to enter Ellesmera.

_Did Gilderian not stop us?_

_He did. You seemed distracted, so I spoke with him._

_Thank you, Saphira._

_You are welcome, Little One._

Soon enough, Saphira was gliding down to a clearing in the elven capital. She landed with a thump, and Eragon hopped down to see Arya and Fírnen waiting for them, along with Roran and Katrina. He quickly removed her saddle, and together, Saphira and Fírnen sprang off the forest floor, flying towards the Crags of Tel'naeír and hoping to make up for the time spent apart.

Roran ran up and gave Eragon a bear hug.

"Roran, let go, I can't breathe," Eragon wheezed.

"Sorry," Roran said sheepishly. "Thank you for making us go with Arya. The things we've seen! The Beor Mountains…Farthen Dur…I've never seen anything so incredible!"

"And Ellesmera is more beautiful than I could have imagined!" Katrina added, smiling. "The trees, the flowers, the peace. It's breathtaking."

"Aye," agreed Roran, "and they've given me some ideas of how to rebuild Carvahall."

"I am glad that you are both enjoying your stay. Maybe in the next few days I could show you around the forest, but for now, would you mind if I talk to the Queen?"

"Of course not, Eragon, and we would be happy to spend some more time with you. Come on Roran," Katrina said, linking her arm with his, "we should be getting back to Ismira. Goodnight Eragon."

"Yes, have a good night, Cousin," Roran said with a sly grin and a slight nod in the direction of Arya. He and Katrina turned and wandered down a forest path, back towards Tialdarí Hall.

Eragon flushed. He attempted to calm his thoughts, and strolled over to Arya. "Astra esterní ono thelduin, Arya Drottning."

"Astra du evarínya ono varda, Eragon Shur'tugal." She smiled at him. "How was your trip?"

"Relaxing. We took our time in getting here, and we had a swim on the way." He laughed at the memory. "And how was yours?"

"More eventful, I would say. After I had met with Orik, the dwarves threw a great feast in mine and Fírnen's honour. Saphira must have been telling Fírnen about the wonders of dwarven mead, because he insisted on trying some and he became rather drunk," she said with a smirk.

"At least he didn't attempt to bow," Eragon chuckled.

Arya let out a laugh, which to Eragon's ears sounded like the tinkling of crystal. It seemed to brighten the whole clearing for a moment, and left Eragon grinning widely.

"Arya, would you care to walk with me?"

"I would enjoy that," she smiled.

So together they set out, meandering through the forest, not with any particular destination in mind, just going where their feet took them. Sometimes they talked, but mostly they just listened to the silence of the forest. Eventually, they came to the Menoa tree. They sat down side-by-side, with their backs against the trunk.

The two of them sat in the calm of the forest, soaking up the peace and letting their minds relax. After a time, Arya grasped Eragon's hand, but didn't say anything. Startled, Eragon decided to say nothing in case he ruined the moment. Instead, he gently squeezed her hand to let Arya know that he was there if she needed to talk. Closing his eyes, Eragon relaxed once more, determined to enjoy the moment.

Eventually, Arya broke the silence. "How long do you plan to stay?" she asked quietly.

Eragon sighed. "A week, maybe two."

"That little time?" Arya whispered.

Eragon tried to explain. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back and establish the Dragon Riders. The dragons in those eggs have been in them long enough. They need to find their Riders as soon as possible. But we have to make sure that the world is safe for them before they come out. That is why we are leaving to explore the other lands."

"I…I understand," Arya murmured.

"We will return Arya. You will see my face again and I will hold your hand once more." He gave it a gentle squeeze. "I will come back. Wiol ono."

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, the emerald orbs glistening with unshed tears. "I will hold you to that promise," she whispered. Then she lay her head against Eragon's shoulder, closed her eyes, and drifted into her waking dreams. Eragon followed not long after.

A few hours later, when the stars were shining and the moon was high in the sky, they awoke together and stood up, their hands still clasped together. Slowly, they made their way back to Tialdarí Hall. They stopped outside the door to Arya's rooms. Standing in silence for a few moments, he summoned his courage, and kissed her on the brow.

"Goodnight Arya."

With a final squeeze, he let go of her hand and quickly left the building before he lost the will to do so. He returned to his treehouse, and after a few minutes of climbing opened the door to his residence.

Before collapsing into bed, he noted that Saphira must still be with Fírnen, for her cushion was empty.

Although neither knew it, both Eragon and Arya had dreams that night. Dreams filled with the other, the one that held their heart.

**AN**

**Not bad, eh? Well, at least, not too bad in my most humble opinion. The word 'salann' is the Irish word for salt in case anyone was interested.**

**Also, has anyone ever noticed that Isenstar lake looks very like the Republic of Ireland with Northern Ireland missing?**

**Thank you for reading! Please review! NymeriaBjartskular**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN Many, many apologies for the long delay. I've had a lot of schoolwork and not much time for writing. Hope you enjoy this chapter. NymeriaBjartskular **

**Chapter 4**

The following week in Ellesmera was one of the happiest Eragon could remember since he had left Carvahall so long ago.

In the mornings he read books and scrolls from the library in Tialdarí Hall and from Oromis' hut. During the afternoons he chatted with Roran and Katrina about life before the war, while exploring the beauty of Du Weldenvarden. His evenings were spent with Arya, the two of them wandering the forest in silence, simply revelling in each other's company. He did not see much of Saphira during this time. She and Fírnen kept mostly to themselves away on the Crags.

Eight days after his arrival in Ellesmera, Eragon, Saphira, Arya, Fírnen and the Eldunarí gathered under the Menoa tree, along with the elves finest spellcasters and the Caretakers; the elf women Iduna and Neya.

First, they removed some of the wards surrounding Du Weldenvarden that would not allow scrying. Then, Eragon began the incantation.

(From Inheritence)

_The Caretakers disrobed, and – in accordance with the ancient rituals – Eragon and the others began to sing, and as they sang, Iduna and Neya danced, moving together so that the dragon tattooed across them seemed to become a single unified creature._

_At the height of the song, the dragon shimmered, and then it opened its jaws and stretched its wings and leaped forward, pulling itself off the elves' skin and rising above the clearing until only its tail remained touching the intertwined Caretakers._

_Eragon called to the glowing creature, and when he had its attention, he explained to it what he wanted and asked if the dragons would agree._

Do as you will, Kingkiller, _said the spectral creature. _If it will help ensure peace throughout Alagaesia, we do not object.

_Then Eragon read from one of the books of the Riders, and he spoke the name of the Ancient Language in his mind. The elves and the dragons who were present lent him the strength of their bodies, and the energy from them coursed through him like a great whirling tempest. With it, Eragon cast the spell he had spent days perfecting, a spell such as had not been cast for hundreds of years: an enchantment like unto the great old magics that ran deep within the veins of the earth and the bones of the mountains. With it, he dared to do what had been done only once before._

_With it, he forged a new contract between the dragons and the Riders. He bound not just the elves and the humans to the dragons, but also the dwarves and the urgals, making it so that anyone of them could become a Rider._

_As he spoke the final words of the mighty enchantment, and thus sealed it into place, a tremor seemed to run through the air and the earth. He felt as if everything around them – and everything in the world perhaps – had shifted ever so slightly. The spell exhausted him, Saphira and the other dragons, but upon its conclusion, a sense of elation filled him, and he knew that he had accomplished a great good, the greatest, perhaps, of his entire life._

(end of excerpt)

The elves insisted on throwing a feast to mark the momentous occasion, a feast that lasted three days! There was a joyful atmosphere throughout the celebration, and the Great Forest came alive at all the singing and dancing. It seemed as though a dark cloud had lifted from over Du Weldenvarden. Galbatorix's evil reign was finally at an end, and a new age was beginning. An age in which all the races could co-exist together for the first time in Alagaesia's long history.

At some point during the three days, Eragon slipped away from the feasting and into the forest. With a clear mind, he ran quietly to the Menoa Tree. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before placing his hands on the wizened, creviced bark of the trunk. He cast out his mind:

_Linnea ... Awake! Linnea, I must speak with you!_

A faint tendril of thought touched his mind, but Eragon could sense the power of the vast consciousness behind it. _What is it you want, Rider?_

_Linnea, I am here to repay the debt I owe you. You allowed me to take the brightsteel from beneath your roots, and with it I forged a sword that helped us win the war. What would you have of me, Linnea?_

_Your debt is paid, Rider. As you say, you won the war. Because of that you saved my forest. You owe me nothing._

And with that, Linnea withdrew from Eragon's mind, clearly feeling that the matter was resolved. Eragon still felt as if he owed something to the great tree, but with no way to change her mind, all he could do was accept her decision and let his mind be at peace.

Eragon and Saphira spent a further two weeks in Ellesmera. In that time, they allowed themselves to relax to the point that their bodies were free of the stress and tension that had built up throughout the long war. Now that Galbatorix was dead, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders. They could finally enjoy themselves and appreciate what they had accomplished, instead of wondering if each day would be their last.

Not only did their minds relax in this time, but their bodies recovered fully from the effects of the taxing and arduous war. Saphira grew another six feet in length and three feet in height. She also put back on the weight she had lost, eating enough meat to leave Fírnen awestruck.

Eragon himself also sprouted a couple of inches. His hair and nails regained their colour and shine and the dark bags under his eyes disappeared.

Towards the end of their stay, Eragon paid a visit to the elf smith, Rhunon. As he walked up the path to her hut, the ringing sound of a hammer striking metal could be heard. He paused in the doorway for a few minutes, simply observing the master smith at work.

"Who's there?"

Eragon smiled. He thought he'd been silent, but obviously the ancient elf still had perfect hearing. "Eragon."

At the sound of his voice, Rhunon whipped around. "It seems you didn't die. And you killed the tyrant. I hope that sword of yours helped with both."

Eragon held her piercing gaze. "It saved me and many others more times than I can count. Galbatorix died because of it."

"That is good to hear," Rhunon said, "that traitor deserved to die." She turned back to her work, picking up a hammer. "Is that all you came for?"

"No," Eragon said before she could strike the metal, "I have a question to ask you."

Rhunon paused. "Well get on with it then," she said impatiently.

Eragon smiled, knowing she was curious even if she pretended otherwise. "Would you like me to remove your oath?"

Rhunon froze. Slowly, she turned around, and stared fiercely at Eragon. "How? What you say is impossible. Oaths in the ancient language are unbreakable."

"Galbatorix discovered the Word. I gained the knowledge before he died. Nothing is unbreakable."

There was absolute silence in the hut for a long time. Day turned to dusk, and all the while, the two elves stood stock still, one with his hands clasped behind him, the other with her brow furrowed, trying to make a life-changing decision. Eventually she lifted her head.

"Get rid of it," she said, quietly and firmly.

Eragon strode over to Rhunon and put his hands either side of her face. In his mind, he used the Word to remove the oath Rhunon had placed on herself long ago. When he was finished, he stepped back to see her reaction. As if time was going backwards, Rhunon stood up straighter and lines left her face. Visibly, she looked relieved.

For the first time in his life, Eragon saw Rhunon smile.

"I have brought with me all of the Riders swords we found in Galbatorix's castle in Uru'baen. They are in Blodhgarm's possession on the outskirts of the Ellesmera. If you wish, I can ask him to bring you to them."

"Elrun ono, Shur'tugal."

Eragon inclined his head. "Goodbye Rhunon," he said.

"Goodbye Eragon," she replied.

Eragon turned and left, making his way through the dusk light back to his treehouse.

It was dawn. Eragon had shaved and washed and had just finished a light breakfast. He sat on the bed staring at the saddle bags he had packed the night before. The saddle bags themselves were new. Eragon had made them himself, the way Brom had shown him. The leather was supple and strong, and would last the journey they were about to undertake.

Eragon could feel Saphira approaching. A gust of wind rattled the room as Saphira alighted on the teardrop shaped portal into the treehouse.

Neither spoke as Eragon fixed the saddle to Saphira's back, having adjusted it the previous evening to accommodate her growth spurt. Both were experiencing mixed emotions. Eragon was reluctant to leave the comfort and familiarity of Ellesmera, a place he would happily call home, while Saphira was sad that she had to leave her mate.

However, both Dragon and Rider were excited at the prospect of new adventures and journeying into the unknown, of discovering new lands and hopefully finding a safe place to establish the next generation of Dragon Riders.

Eragon finished attaching the saddle bags to the Saphira's saddle. He turned around and had one last glance at his home, before leaping onto Saphira's back.

Saphira launched herself out of the treehouse, and wordlessly, the two of them flew to the centre of Ellesmera before spiralling down into a grassy clearing. Awaiting them were Arya and Fírnen.

While getting down from Saphira's back, Eragon remembered yesterday's farewell to Roran and Katrina.

He met them in their quarters in Tialdarí Hall. They spent the afternoon talking and laughing, mainly recounting stories from their childhood in Carvahall. They all knew why Eragon was there though, and as evening approached, the mood became sombre. In the end, they were all glassy-eyed. Katrina was devastated that Ismira would never know her uncle, while Roran was terrified that he would never see his cousin again. Eragon was dreading leaving the only family he had left, with the possibility that he might never see them again all too real. Eventually, they all calmed down, with Eragon reminding the couple that they had a mirror bound to his so that they could stay in contact. With a final kiss from Katrina and a bear hug from Roran, Eragon left their rooms.

Shaking himself back to the present, Eragon had to steel himself for possibly the hardest goodbye.

"Arya," Eragon said with a smile.

She tried smiling back, but it came out as a grimace. "Eragon."

He came closer, and slowly leaned in to give her a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, Arya's face snug against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head, inhaling her unique pine scent.

After a few minutes, he let go and held her at arm's length. "We have to go now, Arya."

"I know." Her voice was clear, but she had tears in her eyes.

"I'll scry you whenever I can," he said, "so keep your mirror close," he added with a grin.

Arya half laughed, half sobbed. It broke his heart.

"We'll come back, I promise. I'm not sure how long we'll be away, but we will come back. We have responsibilities here. To the future Dragon Riders, to Nasuada, to Roran and Katrina. To you and Fírnen. I promise I'll come back. Wiol ono."

Eragon pulled her close and kissed her brow, then turned to leave. Fírnen lowered his snout so it was level with Eragon's face.

_Take care of my mate, Kingkiller. I need her._

_I will Fírnen. Do not worry. Please look after Arya. I feel that the Queenship will be a heavy burden. You have to keep her strong._

_Goodbye Eragon._

_Goodbye Fírnen._

Eragon broke eye contact and walked over to Saphira. He climbed up into the saddle and strapped in his legs. He checked that everything was properly secured one last time.

_Are you ready, Little One?_

_I am ready Saphira. Let'sgo!_

Saphira reared up onto her hind legs and let loose a ear-shattering roar and an eye-watering stream of blue flame. Then her muscles bunched and she threw herself into the air, flapping hard to stay aloft. The pair kept rising above the trees, and when Saphira decided they were at the right altitude, she roared again. This time she received a reply from the forest below.

Saphira angled herself north, and together, she and Eragon started their journey into the unknown, with excitement on their faces and hope in their hearts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Finally, it's getting warmer! I have been cold for too long!_

_I know Saphira, we never have to go back there again! I need to feel the sun on my skin! I've never been that cold in my entire life, not even in the winters in Carvahall!_

For the past three months, Eragon and Saphira had been exploring the cold expanses of the north. For the first couple of weeks they had flown over grass plains and forests. Melding their minds together and extending their consciousness in every direction, they were able to sense all the life around them. The came across vast herds of wild deer and oxen, as well as large groups of predatory cats that that worked together to take down their prey. From high above, they also spotted nomadic tribes, similar to those in the Hadarac Desert.

Gradually the weather started getting colder and colder. Animal life thinned out and plant life became scarce. They passed mountains taller the Spine but much colder. Saphira fed off herds of woolly deer that managed to survive despite the harsh conditions. Eventually they reached the ocean. The ground was made of snow and ice and they saw blocks of ice floating in the sea as well. Although the area seemed devoid of life, using their minds the pair were able to discover that in fact the sea was teeming with fish. They even saw a giant creature that looked like a Nidhwal leaping out of the sea, but its mind was not as dark.

Now, they had left the cold north far behind, and were heading east. A few days ago they had seen Du Weldenvarden on the horizon. Both Saphira and Eragon longed to visit, but both knew that if they did, they would never leave. So on they went. Each day it got hotter, and each day Saphira got happier. She was in her element. Dragons loved the heat, and Saphira was no exception.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and on they went, encountering no people of any kind, be they humans, elves, dwarves or urgals. All the while, the Eldunarí extended their consciousness' in every direction, seeing through Saphira, Eragon and any life nearby. Together they soaked up all the information they could, storing it away in case the Riders may have use of it sometime in the future.

After four months of travelling since they left the north behind, Saphira and Eragon came to an ocean. Saphira landed on the beach.

_What do we do now? Keep going or turn back? Saphira?_

_All this flying has made me bigger and stronger than I could ever have imagined being for my age. I believe that with a full belly I could fly without stop for five days. Maybe six. Masters, what do you think?_

It was Umaroth who answered.

_We sensed the ocean a few days ago and we have been discussing what to do since. We agree that you are certainly strong enough Saphira. You are one of the strongest dragons of your age I have ever seen. Since we started our journey, the Eldunarí have collectively been gathering energy from the life around us. We have a wide enough reach that we can take a small amount of energy from a large number of creatures without harming any of them. We have gathered a very large amount of energy in this way, enough to move several large mountains. Or enough to keep a dragon in the air for up to two weeks. If you wish to carry on we will support you. If you wish to turn back we will support you in that as well. You are the Lead Rider and Dragon. Yours is the final decision._

Eragon spoke first.

_Saphira, if you're able, I think we should continue on. We've come this far. If we fly for about a week and still can't sense any land ahead of us, then we can turn back. But you're the one flying. You decide._

_I agree we should continue. I know that I'm strong enough. But I need to eat first. Let us rest here for a couple of days. I can fill my belly and we can rest before we attempt the crossing._

So for two days Saphira gorged herself on the deer and goats living in the dunes beside the beach. Eragon replenished his own food supply, gathering fruits and hunting rabbits, then cutting and drying the meat into strips. He also found a local spring, and was able to make it into a pool so that Saphira could take regular drinks and keep herself hydrated for the long trip ahead.

At dawn on the third day, they left the beach. Saphira rose as high as she could without freezing Eragon – who was wearing all the clothes he had brought. The air became thinner as they went up, and less resistance meant that Saphira could conserve energy.

Guided by the Eldunarí, Saphira located and used the air currents to go faster than she would normally be able to fly using only her wings. The continued in this way three days, without meeting any form of weather – good or bad – other than the wind they were using to their advantage. However, on the fourth day, they were hit by rain. Rain that lasted for a day and a night. It made the two of them miserable and it weighed down Saphira's wings, making the already tired muscles even worse. Every hour Eragon cleared her wings of water with an incantation, which helped, but not by much. Finally, they flew through the other side of the rain cloud, to be met by blazing sunshine and a spectacular rainbow.

While Saphira concentrated on flying, Eragon and the Eldunarí spread their minds in every direction, trying to find life that indicated they were near land.

With the wind to help her, Saphira managed to fly for eight days unassisted. It was on the eighth day when Valdr spoke to them.

_Young Ones, I sense birds to the south-east. Perhaps one more day's flight._

The Eldunarí flooded Saphira with some of their stored energy. She let loose a jet of flame and a roar. Her muscles were re-energised, her body no longer tired. With renewed hope, they headed south-east.

At dusk, on the ninth day at sea, they saw land on the horizon. A couple of hours later and they could hear the cries of sea-birds, but it was deep in the night when they finally landed. Saphira managed to find a group of hills just beyond the ocean front, where she settled into a small valley and promptly fell asleep.

Eragon could not get the saddle off her back, so he simply pulled out his blankets and curled against her side. He dared not sleep, however. Although he could not sense anything around them apart from rabbits and birds, they were in a new land, and he couldn't be too careful.

Saphira slept through the whole night and all of the next day as well. When she woke up the following evening, she was famished.

_Hello, sleepyhead._

_Hello Little One._

_There's a herd of deer about a league away, if you're hungry. _In response to Saphira's quizzical eye, he said, _I went exploring a couple of hours ago, while you were asleep. As far as I can tell we're alone here. It seems to be deserted._

_Well, I'm going to fill my belly with those deer. I'll be back soon. Don't cause any trouble when I'm not here. _Saphira gave a mental smirk.

Eragon was indignant. _How could I possibly cause trouble? There's nothing here! Anyway, I don't make trouble, trouble finds me!_

Saphira let out a draconic chuckle. _Whatever you say, Little One._

Then she spread her wings and leapt into the air, silently gliding in the direction of the deer. She returned a short while later, and then proceeded to clean herself of the gore.

_How many?_

_Three, _Saphira said nonchalantly.

_Three?!Are you sure you won't be too heavy to fly tomorrow? _Eragon teased.

_Watch it Eragon, _Saphira warned, y_ou may be a Rider, but I am a dragon, and I can squish you like bug._

_Yes Saphira._

The following two weeks they spent going inland, not encountering a single person. They passed over deserts and bogs, forests and plains, Saphira staying so high in the sky that if anyone below happened to glance upwards, she would appear to be no more than an eagle.

One day, Eragon saw smoke rising in the distance.

_Saphira, do you see that?_

_I do. I smelled it a few leagues ago. Shall we have a look?_

_I think so. But these people have probably never seen a dragon before. Let me cast an invisibility charm around the two of us, just in case._

Saphira glided closer and a village came into view. Or rather, what was left of one.

_I can't sense anyone nearby. I think it's safe to land._

Saphira settled gently in the centre of the village, only raising small clouds of dust. Eragon hopped off her back and looked around the village. It brought back unpleasant memories of the war against the Empire. Most buildings had been pulled down, and everything had been set on fire, although it must have been done days previously, for the wood that was left was only smouldering. Here and there were white hand prints on the ruins. Thankfully – but Eragon was curious as to why – there were no bodies anywhere. Perhaps the inhabitants knew the attackers were coming and fled. Either way, it was clear that something bad had happened here.

_Let's go Saphira, there's nothing we can do here._

So they flew on, passing ten more villages in a similar state over the next four days.

_Eragon, I smell blood. There has been war here recently._

Saphira spotted the battle-site not long after.

_There, _she said, _by the ford. _It was apparent that nobody was alive, so Saphira alighted on an outcrop of rock beside the river.

Cautiously, Eragon approached the ford, unsheathing Brisingr as he did so – this was the first time he had needed the sword since they left Alagaesia.

There were bodies scattered everywhere, on the banks and in the water, the ford too shallow to wash them away.

There were men and horses, but also creatures that Eragon had never seen before. They resembled urgals, but had no horns. Most were the size of normal urgals, but there were others that were nearly as big as Kull.

Although these creatures made up most of the dead, it appeared they had won the fight. Off on one of the banks, was a circle of men. They had clearly died fighting back-to-back. They had put up a good fight, too. They must have killed fifty of the creatures before they were overwhelmed. Again, Eragon saw the white hand. It was on the face of every dead urgal-like creature.

Together, Dragon and Rider continued on their journey. Both felt unsettled, however. Something was ill-at-ease in this new land, and although neither could say how they knew, it was obvious to the Lead Rider and Dragon that there was evil at work.

After another week of flying, Saphira said suddenly, _Eragon, I can see a large group of people ahead of us. I think it might be those creatures we saw at the ford._

Because of Saphira's far superior eyesight, it was another couple of leagues before Eragon could make anything out. What he did see shocked him. Group was an understatement. It was an army.

_Saphira, can you see how many there are?_

_Thousands, _she paused, _I'd guess ten thousand._

_Ten thousand! If it was groups of those creatures destroying the villages, an army that big has only one purpose: to destroy everything it comes across. Are you able to get over them? I want to try and hear their thoughts._

Saphira caught up with ease, staying so high she resembled a bird. The two of them opened their minds and carefully scanned the thoughts below, keeping up strong mental barriers at the same time. What they found confirmed their worst fears.

The creatures were not very intelligent, and seemed to be bred for war. Their numbers were because they were expendable. The only thing on their minds was death. Hate for men. Blood-lust.

As far as Eragon could tell, they seemed to be the creatures resembling Kull. Their weapons were crude, but effective. They did not feel pain, and had no self-preservation instinct. They would keep fighting until they were dead.

Just before they pulled away, they found the leader. This one was smart. He had intelligence. He was controlling the army. He knew where they were going. Eragon and Saphira managed to get the directions from his head without him realising. Then they returned to their own minds.

_We have to help,_ Eragon said at once. _We can't just leave those people to be slaughtered._

_I agree. Should we attack?_

_No. I don't think so. We're too exposed. They don't seem to have any magicians protecting them, but their numbers are too great. We'd never kill all of them before some escaped and spread word of us. We know something bigger is at work here. Something evil. I can feel it. So can you. We can't turn our backs and go back to Alagaesia without destroying it. The dragons would never be safe. We should go to 'Helm's Deep', as these creatures are calling it. Hopefully we can earn the trust of the people and fight with them._

_I am proud of you Little One. You have truly become wise. _Saphira sent feelings of love and tenderness through their connection, letting him know exactly _how_ proud she was of him.

_Of course, you're right, _she said, _let's find Helm's Deep, we've people to protect!_

**AN Please review, positive or negative, all feedback is good! Constructive criticism is welcomed! Nym**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN Well here we go! The biggest one so far (IMO)!**

**Chapter 6**

Flying above the gorge, Eragon got his first glance at Helm's Deep. It was an incredible piece of defensive construction, rivalling the greatest of the dwarves' strongholds that Eragon had seen.

There was only one entrance to the Deep – a ramp at one side, ending with a wooden gate embedded in the outer wall. The wall itself was flawless. Gigantic blocks of stone seamlessly joined together, without any cracks or possible footholds to be seen. There was only one break in this wall – a culvert at the bottom, letting a small stream drain out into the valley.

Beyond the initial curtain wall was an open space, in which defending forces could safely fire arrows from without being attacked. Then there was the inner fort. A stone wall even taller than the first, enclosing a keep that backed on to the mountain itself. All in all, a very impressive structure. It looked impenetrable. But as Eragon knew first hand, no building was completely safe.

_Saphira, I think I should go down there and see what they're doing. Hopefully they'll listen to our information and trust us._

_Well obviously I won't fit, _she said, a touch sarcastically. _I think I shall just stay up here. I can see some nice caves just above the castle. If you put the invisibility charm on me then I can stay here until the fight starts and nobody will know._

Eragon cast the spell on the both of them while in the sky, then Saphira flew down to the biggest cave. She walked in and settled herself down. Eragon unstrapped his legs and grabbed his weapons and the light armour he had brought with him, strapping it on in the cave.

He walked around to Saphira's front and kissed her on the snout.

_I love you, Saphira._

_I love you too, Little One. Be careful down there._

_I will._

Eragon turned and walked to the entrance of the cave. He looked down the mountainside and planned his way down to the keep. Using magic, he lowered himself down from shelf to shelf, like he had long ago at Helgrind with Sloan. Eventually he reached the bottom.

He made his way behind a building and released the invisibility spell from around himself. Taking care to cover Brisingr with his tunic, he made his way into the crowds. For a time, Eragon simply wandered around, listening with his ears and his mind to all the information around him, knowing that through him, Saphira was listening too.

He learned that the mountain behind was riddled with tunnels, and that this was where the thousands of women and children were hiding. They had guides to lead them to the surface in case of defeat, but from what Eragon heard – and what he personally believed –if the Deep fell, they wouldn't make it far.

There were less than a thousand fighting men, and most were not fighters at all. Many were younger than Eragon himself, and there were many more who looked the same age as Garrow. Apparently all the soldiers of the kingdom – which Eragon had learned was called Rohan – had been outlawed by King Theoden, who had been bewitched by a wizard called Saruman. These soldiers were renowned riders, and prided themselves on fighting from horseback.

King Theoden himself was in Helm's Deep, making preparations in the keep for the upcoming battle. The other leaders were the King's nephew, Eomer, a wizard called Gandalf – who had left in a hurry before they had arrived at Helm's Deep- and a man revered by all who spoke of him, a man called Aragorn. He was an excellent fighter, a kind man with a gentle heart, and supposedly, the rightful king of Gondor, another kingdom in this land. With him travelled an elf and a dwarf. Eragon was very eager to meet Aragorn.

Eragon made his way to the keep. The entrance was flanked by two guards with spears.

"What is your business here?"

"I wish to speak to Lord Aragorn."

"Lord Aragorn is meeting with the King and his advisors. They cannot be disturbed."

"It is important I see him. I have information about the army marching to your doorstep."

The two guards exchanged glances.

"What's your name, son?"

"Eragon, son of Brom."

The guards turned and pushed open the doors, beckoning for Eragon to follow.

There was a group of people inside, bent over a table covered in maps. They all looked up.

"Eragon, son of Brom, wishes to speak to Lord Aragorn."

Eragon examined the group of people in front of him. There was an older man, who he assumed was King Theoden. There was also a dwarf and an elf, clearly distinguishable, who seemed to be good friends. Eragon wondered if that was as unusual in this land as it was in Alagaesia. Finally, there was a tall man with long black hair and a broad, fair-haired man. It was the black-haired man who spoke up.

"I am Aragorn. What is it you wish to say?"

"I have information about the approaching army."

They all stood up a little straighter, and the dwarf's hand strayed to the butt of his axe.

With a bit of an edge in his voice, Aragorn asked, "And how is it that you came to have this information?"

Eragon had rehearsed what he was going to say. He didn't want to reveal Saphira to them until he knew he could trust them.

"I was travelling through the country when I spotted them. They saw me too, but they weren't worried about a lone rider. I rode here as fast as I could, to get away from them and to tell you what I know."

It was the elf who spoke this time. "What do you know?"

"Their army looks ten thousand strong. They are all large, with none of the smaller kind with them. Their weapons look crude, but they look sharp. They have archers, ladders and a kind of battering ram. They do not seem to be wearing much armour, and they don't carry shields. Also, each and every one of them has a white hand on their face."

"Saruman seeks to finally to destroy us," Theoden said, grimly, "an army of ten thousand Uruk'hai. Not even Helm's Deep can withstand the hatred of such beasts. We will all be slaughtered." He turned away and leant against the table, arms shaking, with fear or rage, Eragon did not know.

"My friend, hope still lives while men do," Aragorn said to Theoden, "we are in a fortress that has never fallen, with brave men to defend it."

"How can we survive against such numbers? Against such reckless hate? No man will survive this, Aragorn. All will die." And with that, Theoden strode from the hall, followed by Eomer and flanked by the two guards. The doors closed, and the hall was left in silence.

Aragorn sighed. "I thank you for bringing us this information," he said.

"You are welcome, my lord," Eragon replied. Turning his attention to the elf and the dwarf, he asked, "May I ask what your names are? I have given you mine, and I feel at a disadvantage."

It was the dwarf who answered him. "I am Gimli, son of Gloin," he said gruffly, "and this fellow here," he clapped the elf on the back, "is Legolas of Mirkwood."

Since Eragon had entered the room, the elf had been staring at him suspiciously. Now, he spoke up. "Come here, Eragon, son of Brom. I would talk to you face-to-face."

Eragon strode forward, knowing that he would have to reveal some truths about himself in order to gain their trust.

"I thought my eyes were deceiving me by some trick of the light, but they were not wrong," Legolas said. "What kind of creature are you? Man or elf?"

Eragon took a breath. "I am both," he said.

Gimli looked shocked, while Aragorn and Legolas were both grim faced.

"Where are you from?" Aragorn said. "I have not heard of a half-man, half-in Middle Earth for hundreds of years."

"You are right," Eragon said, "I am not from Middle Earth. I left my own land nearly a year ago and have been travelling ever since, exploring."

"Why did you come here?" the dwarf asked. He too, seemed suspicious. His hand was firmly grasping his axe.

"What I told you was true. I was travelling and I saw the Uruk'hai, so I came here to warn you. Let me help you."

"Help us," Legolas said, "how can you help us more than any other man. You are just a traveller," he said derisively.

"I have fought in wars before, and won. I have withstood sieges and broken them, overcoming numbers even greater than what you face. I am an accomplished swordsmen and bowmen. I truly wish to help you. If you do not trust me, test me. I will not fail."

"Gladly," Legolas said. He took off his cloak and drew his sword. Eragon retreated to the end of the hall, and unsheathed Brisingr. The sword glowed in the dim light of the hall, and for a moment, the three companions were awed. Then the spell over them broke, and Legolas ran forward.

Eragon met him in the middle of the hall, and the duel began. Eragon knew right away that he was rusty. The last time he'd fought had been in Alagaesia, eight months ago. But he quickly got back into his old rhythm, loosening his muscles and practising some of his simpler moves.

Legolas was fast, but not as fast as Arya, who Eragon had fought regularly and won against many times as well. Once Eragon worked out Legolas' pattern, he knew he could beat him. However, he didn't finish him straight away. He wanted them to see his talent, and realise that he could help them win.

After fighting for half an hour, Eragon finished the fight. He waited for the perfect opening, and when it came, he struck instantly. Legolas lunged forward to try and hit Eragon's shoulder. Eragon side-stepped at the last moment, while simultaneously sliding Brisingr down the length of Legolas' sword and ripping it from his grasp. Turning, Eragon caught the sword with his free hand and rested it and Brisingr in a scissors motion at Legolas' throat. He locked eyes with Legolas and held the position for a moment, then stepped back and handed him his sword.

The two of them walked back to Aragorn and Gimli.

"Well," said Gimli, "I never thought I'd see the day when blonde-haired pointy-ears over here got beaten in a fight. That was incredible, I'll admit. But how do we know he isn't a trick by Saruman, or a spy from Mordor?" he added. Clearly the dwarf still had reservations.

"There is no evil in him Gimli. Trust me," said Aragorn. "I would be glad to fight beside you, Eragon."

"And I with you," Eragon replied, smiling.

"Well fought, Eragon," Legolas said, "I have not lost a fight in over two hundred years. It is a good reminder before a battle that no one is unbeatable."

"Eragon, your sword, may I see it?" Gimli asked.

Eragon handed him Brisingr.

"This is incredible workmanship. I have never seen it's like. Where did you get it?"

"It was made for me by an elf smith. She used metal that fell from the sky. She calls it brightsteel."

"Come, Gimli. Give Eragon back his sword. Let us go and get our armour. We need to be ready for battle."

So together, the four of them left the hall, and headed for the armoury.

Just as they finished putting on their armour, they heard a horn blow.

"That's no orc horn," Legolas said. He ran out the door in the direction of the gate, closely followed by Aragorn and Eragon, Gimli waddling behind in his too-long chainmail. From the inner wall, Eragon could see people marching up the ramp. About five hundred people, all wearing cloaks, with bows on their backs and swords by their sides.

"The elves! The elves are here!" came the shouts from below.

Beside him, Gimli started laughing. Catching Eragon's perplexed look, Gimli exclaimed, "We may survive the night after all!"

With the arrival of the elves, the mood in the Deep had lifted impressively, considering they were about to enter battle. Eragon himself was very interested in the new arrivals. From looks alone, they seemed very similar to the Alagaesian elves – tall, fair-skinned and with long, flowing hair. Upon probing their minds gently, Eragon discovered that they also had melodic minds, with strains of music floating through. However, unlike Alagaesian elves, they did not seem to have any mental barriers, and Eragon could not sense any magicians among them, although they were certainly more powerful than their human counterparts. Even though he wanted to learn more about them, Eragon knew it would have to wait until after the battle.

As dark approached, the soldiers took their places. Archers lined the walls, and some remained in the hidden yard below. Both the outer and inner walls were manned, and the gate had been barred and blocked from the inside. It was not long before the first torches were seen.

The night was black, and the valley in front of them was full of pinpricks of light. Thousands upon thousands of torches, leading a silent army come to destroy the men of Rohan. Before the battle began, Eragon needed to find Aragorn. Finally, he spotted him, talking to some of the elves on the outer wall.

"Aragorn, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Eragon," he said.

"I know you only met me today, but I need to know: do you trust me?"

Aragorn stared intently at him. Slowly, he answered. "You're right, I haven't known you for very long, but in the time that I have, you haven't said or done anything to give me reason to distrust you. What is this about?"

Eragon weighed up his options. Should he tell Aragorn about Saphira? He hadn't heard a word about dragons since he arrived in Middle Earth. Was that a good or bad thing? Would they attack if they saw her? He decided to compromise. Omission was better than outright lying.

"Everything I told you was true, except that I did not come alone. I have a companion."

"What?! Where are they?"

"On the mountainside." At Aragorn's confused look, he said, "You will see how she got up there when you see her. Listen, we don't have much time. She can win the battle for us, but I need your word that you won't attack her. You are in charge. When she appears, I need you to control the soldiers. Please."

"Her? Why would we attack a friend? You need - " at that moment, the army below halted and blew a horn so loud it reverberated off the rock walls of the valley, echoing on and on.

Aragorn threw one last look at Eragon, then ran to his place on the wall to command the forces. Eragon followed suit, taking his place a stone's throw from Aragorn. He was standing beside Legolas and Gimli, who had somehow found a box to stand on so he could see over the parapet.

"Good hunting, my friends," said Legolas, "may we live to see the morning sun rise."

"Aye lad," Gimli agreed, "and may the best dwarf win."

Then the battle began.

**AN So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? How are the Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli characters? Also, I've only been able to write and upload this many chapters because I'm on holidays at the minute. It'll probably slow down from here. Nym**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Who's ready for battle? *slowly raises hand***

Time passed in a blur for Eragon. His fingers were numb from firing arrow after arrow. The defenders rained death down on the besiegers but they kept coming. They had brought ladders to try and scale the walls, but with the elves accuracy they sliced many of the ropes mid-air, and the ladders fell, crushing many of the enemy beneath them. Eragon took down his fair share of ladders as well. Legolas and Gimli thought their companion strange. He occasionally muttered words to himself, something that sounded like "Jierda". If they were paying close enough attention, they would have noticed that every time Eragon muttered to himself, a ladder would splinter and fall to the ground, killing those on it and skewering many below.

Of course, they could not stop all the ladders. Some hit the wall, and the orcs scampered off like rats. They were quickly dealt with however, the elves easily dispatching the small number of opponents.

For hours the battle continued this way, but gradually, Saruman's army started to gain an advantage. The men and elves in Helm's Deep began to run out of arrows, and so more ladders hit the outer wall. With the ladders came more of the enemy, and they started to push the defenders back towards the steps leading off the wall and into the yard below.

Then Eragon entered the fray. Block. Stab. Swing. Sidestep. Repeat .Eragon was reminded that his enemies were deadly when he saw a man nearly get chopped in half from one swing of an orc's axe. Men and elves were dying, overcome by the numbers coming over the walls.

Eragon paused for a moment when he realised he had killed all the orcs attacking him. Surrounding him were limbless and decapitated bodies. Moving to the nearest ladder, he used Brisingr to break the grips holding it to the wall, and then pushed it off. "Thrysta."

Taking stock of the battle around him, Eragon noticed Aragorn trying to prevent orcs from swarming off the ladders. Alone.

"Legolas! Gimli!" Eragon screamed over the din of the battle. They somehow heard him and looked up. He pointed to Aragorn with Brisingr. "Help me!"

Eragon charged across the wall, sometimes not even bothering to swing at his opponents, simply pushing them off the wall to fall to their deaths a hundred feet below. He reached the orcs surrounding Aragorn and began slashing at the enemies in front of him. He fought his way to the centre of the horde to find Aragorn, bruised, bloodied, and limping from a cut on his leg, but alive nonetheless.

Sharing a glance, Aragorn nodded his appreciation for Eragon's help. The pair turned and began to fight back-to-back. They worked together seamlessly, as if they'd been doing so for their entire lives. When Eragon moved forward to attack, Aragorn defended, and vice versa.

Suddenly, orcs began falling to the ground, their legs cut out from under them. Others collapsed stone dead, arrows in the backs of their heads. Gimli and Legolas emerged, finishing off the orcs they'd incapacitated.

With two more joining the fight, Eragon and Aragorn were able to break apart and take on their enemies properly. The foursome fought fearlessly, Eragon and Aragorn with their swords, Gimli with his hefty axe and Legolas with his hunting knives.

Soon, all that was left of the enemy was dead bodies. Then Eragon felt a searing pain in his leg and he screamed. A not-so-dead orc that was lying on the ground had stabbed Eragon through the calf. Gimli reacted the quickest, first cutting off the hand holding the knife, then the head.

"Eragon, are you - " Legolas began. Then the world shifted. There was an enormous BOOM, and part of the wall exploded. Eragon, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were thrown apart. Stone blocks were raining down, crushing orcs, men and elves alike.

Eragon's head was spinning and his leg was throbbing.

_ERAGON! _Saphira screamed in his mind. _GET UP! You're in the middle of a battle!_

Eragon groaned, then coughed to try and remove the dust from his lungs. He opened his eyes to see an orc standing over him. It lifted its axe, then brought it crashing down. Eragon rolled at the last second, and the metal axe clanged off the stone. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Eragon sprang up and was behind the orc before it realised what had happened. He ripped his knife from his belt and stabbed the orc through the back of the neck. It collapsed dead at his feet.

After making sure that he wasn't under imminent attack, Eragon surveyed the carnage. The explosion had blown a twenty foot gap in the outer wall. Orcs were clambering over the rubble into the yard below by the hundred. They hadn't prepared for this. The defenders would soon be overwhelmed, and every man, woman and child would be slaughtered.

Eragon knew he had to do something. But first, he had to find Aragorn. He quickly scanned his surroundings, and eventually he spotted him. He was standing a stone's throw away on the parapet, but the wall between them had been destroyed and there was no way to get across in time.

"ARAGORN!" Eragon yelled. He looked up. "Let me help!" he shouted across the divide! He saw Aragorn look up the sky and then look back at Eragon, thinking hard. Finally, he nodded his assent. "You can't attack! Whatever you think, you cannot attack! Please," Eragon shouted, "TRUST ME!" Aragorn nodded again. Eragon pointed to the yard below, "Drive them out, I'll handle the rest!"

Turning away, Eragon cast a quick ward about himself to ward off arrows.

_Ready, Saphira?_

_Let's teach these monsters about dragons!_

Eragon stepped up on the edge of the wall. Looking down, he saw the hundred foot drop. Raising his eyes, he saw the thousands of Uruk'hai trying to enter the Deep and destroy the people hiding there.

_NOW, SAPHIRA!_

He felt her leap off the cave ledge, and silently glide until she was over the castle. Seeing through her eyes, he saw the thousands of orcs in much greater detail, their leering faces and murderous eyes.

Saphira roared, so loud that the stone under Eragon's feet vibrated. Not a sound could be heard on the battlefield. Every man, elf and orc was silent, all quivering with fear.

Eragon looked at Aragorn one last time, and saw him shocked. Then Saphira dived.

Bathing blue flame on the enemy, Saphira swooped low, incinerating those closest to her, while those further away roasted to a crisp. Using her tail she battered rows of the enemy into the sides of the valley, and her raking claws decapitated scores more.

The Uruk'hai ran screaming. They had been sent to kill men, not face down a dragon. Nobody wanted to burn to death. But Saphira would not let them escape. She used her flames to herd the attempted escapees back into the valley, where they joined their companions.

Inside the castle, there was mayhem. The fighting had resumed in the yard, but those on the walls were torn between joining their comrades below and attacking Saphira. Above them all, could be heard the deep voice of a dwarf.

"DRAGON! DRAGON! KILL IT! SMAUG HAD COME AGAIN!"

Eragon had no idea what a smaug was, but others were rallying to Gimli's cry. The archers were gathering together, preparing to fire, when a voice bellowed, "STOP!"

It was Aragorn. "Stop this madness! Look with your eyes! The dragon is not attacking us! It is helping us! Leave it! We need to help our brothers below! Men of Rohan, to me! To me!" And he charged down the steps, closely followed by a hundred men and elves. Together, they cut through the orcs, driving them back through the wall or killing them.

When Eragon looked back, he could see that Saphira had grouped the remaining Uruk'hai together and that they were encircled by a ring of fire. There were less than three thousand left.

The remaining orcs had finally organised themselves. The archers they had left fired at Saphira when she came in on one of her passes, forcing her to change her tactics. Instead of constantly sweeping over them, she hung in the sky, invisible against the dark night.

Then she dropped silently on to an unsuspecting group and tore them to pieces, taking off before the rest could attack her. She would also fly in low, and use her teeth and claws and occasionally her tail to maim and kill as many as she could before rising again.

_Saphira, can you handle them? I'm going to help Aragorn._

_Don't worry Eragon, they're not going anywhere, _she said with a little too much relish.

Eragon hopped off the parapet and fell to one knee, suddenly remembering the hole in his leg. Now that he wasn't being attacked he had time to heal it.

"Waíse heill," he said. The muscle in his calf knitted together and the skin smooth over to form an unblemished surface. Rising from one knee he continued down the steps, searching for Aragorn.

He found him lying on the ground, cradling the head of a dying elf. Legolas and Gimli were looking on, grim-faced.

Eragon rushed over. "I can heal him," he said.

"How?" Aragorn rasped. "He has a spear in his belly. It's impossible."

"You've trusted me this far, let me help you. Let me help him."

Aragorn looked down at the ground, then up at Legolas who nodded imperceptibly, then gave his own assent.

Eragon set to work immediately. The first thing he did was to see what the damage was inside. The spear hadn't gone all the way through, but it had nicked the spleen and the head was buried in a part of the intestine.

"Legolas, I need you to pull the spear out. One quick movement, no hesitation. He's unconscious already, so he won't feel it. Ready? One, two, three, pull."

As soon as the spear slid out, Eragon's hands were on the wound. Because of his extensive knowledge and practical use of the Ancient Language, and because of the Word, Eragon didn't have to use a long complicated incantation to heal the elf, he simply had to say, "Waíse heill," and he could direct his power to the right place. Blue sparks danced across his hands, and he heard Gimli whisper.

"Magic!"

As the skin on the elf's stomach closed over, his breathing evened out and he fell into a light sleep.

"You are a magician," Legolas stated.

"I am," Eragon replied.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked with wonder.

"My name is Eragon, my story I will tell after the battle is done. For now, let me heal the wounded.

The hours until daybreak were spent well. The dead were gathered and brought up to the keep. The orcs were piled in a corner to be burned. With the help of the Eldunarí, Eragon healed everyone that he could. He reattached limbs and put broken bodies back together. He saved more than a hundred lives.

By the time the sun had risen, Saphira's raids had reduced the corralled Uruk'hai from 3000 to 500. Those remaining were like caged rats. They would do anything to get away from the dragon.

_Eragon, there's a large group of riders approaching from the east valley wall. Are they going to attack us?_

_I don't know. I'll ask Aragorn if he knows. Be ready just in case._

At this point, Eragon was in the keep with his three companions, the King and his advisors.

"Aragorn, what do you know about a group of riders approachingfrom the east?"

"Gandalf! He went searching for the Rohirrim. They're the Riders of Rohan. If you hadn't been here Eragon, we would certainly have been in a worse state. I fear Gandalf would have been too late. As it is, it seems they aren't needed."

"On our way here, we passed many villages that had been destroyed. If that was my home, I would want revenge. It was Rohan that was attacked, Rohan should finish this battle!"

"Yes," said Theoden, smiling, "we shall ride out to meet them, and the horn will sound in the Deep once more! Gather the horses!"

_Saphira, they're friendly. We're riding out to meet them. Can you drive the orcs east?_

_That should be no problem. They're terrified of me._ She sent a mental grin.

Someone found Eragon a horse, and he rode out at the front of the column with Theoden and Aragorn. They reached the gate, which was battered and splintered but had held firm. A path had been cleared for the riders and they trotted out the entrance down the ramp. Once they reached the bottom of the ramp they spread out into two lines, with swords drawn. As they started trotting, Saphira started to drive the orcs east. Thinking they may escape, they ran for their lives. Her job done, Saphira rose into the air to settle on the far side of the valley.

From the east, a white figure appeared on a white horse.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!" cried the men.

Then he was joined by horsemen, hundreds and hundreds of them. They started to canter down the hill, then they broke into a gallop. Too late, the orcs realised they were trapped. They turned to run back, but it was obvious they'd never make it.

A horn sounded from the castle. It reverberated around the valley, echoing off every rock and stone, getting louder and louder. Eragon could hear the horses' hooves thundering against the ground, then the Rohirrim caught the orcs. It was slaughter. They were cut down from behind, ridden into the ground. The riders showed no mercy, clearly driven by revenge for their families who had been killed, their homes that had been destroyed.

Not a single orc was left alive, and not one rider was killed.

They met with Gandalf in the centre of the valley.

"Theoden," he said, "it is very good to see you still alive, my friend."

"And you, Mithrandir."

"I must admit, I am surprised to see so many of you, and so few orcs! And unless my eyes deceive me, and I don't believe they are, there is a dragon sitting on the valley wall!"

Aragorn brought his horse forward. "Gandalf, there is someone here you have not met. I believe he can explain both to you. To me as well. This is Eragon." He gestured for Eragon to come forward, which Eragon duly did.

"Eragon," said Gandalf, looking him over, "an unusual name, one that has never before been heard in Middle Earth, I would think. You are not from this land, are you Eragon?"

Eragon was impressed. Clearly, there was more to Gandalf than you would first think. He already liked him, but he also knew that he was the most dangerous person he had met yet. Eragon could sense the power radiating from the seemingly frail body.

"No, I'm not. I'm from a land called Alagaesia. As for the dragon over there, she is the reason for the lack of orcs. You can meet her, if you wish. She won't attack us. I swear to you."

"I would very much like to meet her. Lead the way, young Eragon."

**So how was that? See that review button? Click it. Go on. It takes you two seconds, but it makes my day. Pleaseeeee!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Eragon led Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Theoden and Eomer over to Saphira. When they were about twenty feet away, she dropped off the valley wall and landed on the ground with a dull thud. The horses skittered but Eragon calmed them with his mind. He dismounted, handing the reins to Legolas before walking over to Saphira's side.

"How did you tame the beast?" Gimli wondered aloud.

Saphira growled low in her throat. "She is no beast, Gimli. Her name is Saphira, and she is more intelligent than all of us here put together."

"How do you communicate with her?" Gandalf asked, bringing his horse forward.

"I will show you. Open your minds and do not be afraid."

_Care to introduce yourself? _Eragon said to Saphira, smirking.

She broadcast her thoughts to all those in front of her.

_Hello._

"Arghhh!" said Gimli, grasping his head, "what is this sorcery?"

Theoden and Eomer also looked pained, while Aragorn and Legolas merely appeared uncomfortable. Gandalf however, although understandably wary, seemed extremely curious.

"I apologise for your discomfort. I forgot that for those not used to speaking with their minds, the first time can be uncomfortable."

"What do you mean, speaking with your mind?" Legolas asked curiously.

"Saphira cannot talk as we do. She is a dragon. So instead she uses her mind to communicate. In fact, it is even more expressive than speaking aloud. You can send feelings and emotions, even memories to another. If you wish to talk back to her, you may think your thoughts and she will hear, but it is probably simpler to just speak out loud."

Theoden brought his horse before Saphira. "I thank you, mighty dragon, for saving my people. I am forever in your debt. Anything you wish, I will grant, if it is in my power."

_You owe me no debt, King Theoden. I simply did what was right. Those orcs had nothing on their minds except death for you and your people. They were abominations._

"That they were. Still, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."

_Perhaps, later, you could direct me to where I may hunt without stealing your people's farm animals._

"Of course. There are wild goats and deer in the mountains behind us. They are uninhabited by people. They are hard to catch, but delicious."

_Hard to catch for a human, maybe. But not for a dragon._

Gandalf guffawed. "I fear nothing in this land would be hard to catch, for a dragon. You are very wise and beautiful, mighty Saphira. I must admit, I thought the worst when I saw you at first. The only dragons I have ever encountered had no compassion, no mercy. They would not do anything unless it benefitted them, and never would they dream of putting their own lives at risk to save others"

Eragon's ears perked up. "You have seen dragons before? There are dragons in this land?"

Gandalf sighed. "There were, but no more. The last one was killed sixty years ago. But he was nothing like Saphira. He was cruel and greedy. He was a vicious, murderous creature."

"His name was Smaug," Gimli spat. "He killed mine people for gold. That snake arrived from the north. He flew to Dale first, a city of thousands. It was burnt to the ground. Then he attacked Erebor. Thousands of dwarves he burned to death, and thousands more had to flee. When he had conquered the mountain, he gathered all the gold into a pile and slept on it, not moving for fifty years."

"What happened?" asked Eragon.

Gandalf continued the story. "Sixty one years ago, Gimli's father, twelve other dwarves, a hobbit and myself set out to take back the Lonely Mountain. After a year of travelling, we eventually reached Erebor. When the dwarves entered the mountain, Smaug left to attack the nearby town, which was the only settlement that had been built since Dale was burnt half of the village into the river, but he was shot down by Bard the Bowman with an iron arrow. Luckily, the arrow managed to find the spot where one of Smaug's scales had falled out years before. He crashed out of the sky into the river, dead. There was a battle after that, between men, elves, dwarves and orcs. At the end of it all the orcs were defeated and the dwarves reclaimed their homeland. Sadly," Gandalf sighed heavily, "three of the Gimli's father's companions were killed in the battle."

Saphira was disgusted. _Where I come from, dragons do not need gold or jewels, we are the most magnificent creatures to walk the earth. What else could we need? He murdered. He was no real dragon. He was more of a monster than the orcs we killed today._

Gimli, now standing, fell to his knees. "Please forgive me, O wise and beautiful dragon! When I first saw you, I thought you were a blue smaug, come to destroy and kill me and my people! I see how wrong I was! You truly are magnificent!"

_You are forgiven, Master Gimli, _Saphira said, amused. _You can stand up now, if you wish._

Legolas hauled Gimli to his feet.

Eragon turned his attention to Aragorn. "Earlier, you asked me who I was. Now I will tell you." He rose to his full height, his hand on Saphira's flank. "I am Eragon, son of Brom, Shadeslayer, Kingkiller, rider to the dragon Saphira, and Lead Rider of the Order of Dragon Riders."

The group in front of him looked gobsmacked, even Gandalf.  
"You look like you have some questions, and it's only fair I answer them. But I suggest we go back to the castle and eat something. We've been fighting all night long and you," he looked at Gandalf, "have been riding for several days. We all need to sit down and have a rest, I think."

So together, they mounted their horses and rode back to the castle at a leisurely pace. Behind them, Saphira rose from the ground to go hunting for some of the goats Theoden had mentioned. As they entered through the gate, a big cheer went up. The path was lined by cheering soldiers with their families all the way to the keep. There were shouts of "Theoden!", "Aragorn!", "Gandalf!", and even the occasional "Eragon!"

An hour later, they were sitting in the keep at a big wooden table, each with a tankard of ale and a plate of bread and meat.

Eragon decided to tell the story from the very beginning. He told of his life on the farm with Garrow and Roran, how he found Saphira's egg in the Spine and of his travels with Brom. He recounted how they found the Ra'zac's lair, and the subsequent ambush from which Brom later died. He spoke of rescuing Arya from Gil'ead with Murtagh and their journey across the Hadarac Desert to find the Varden. He described Tronjheim and Farthen Dur – at which Gimli became very interested – and the battle against Durza and the urgals. He spoke of his debilitating back injury, Ellesmera, and discovering that Arya was in fact a princess. He talked about his training with Oromis and Glaedr, his eventual transformation at the Blood-oath ceremony, and the battle at the Burning Plains where he met Roran again and discovered that Murtagh was his brother. The moon was high in the sky, the night old, when Eragon finished telling of how he had defeated Galbatorix.

Theoden had left a few hours previously with Eomer, to talk with his advisors.

Gandalf sat back in his seat, pipe in hand, blowing smoke rings. "That was quite a story, young Eragon. You have performed many heroic deeds."

"Aye," said Aragorn, with admiration. "Your father would have been proud to see what his son has become."

Eragon was filled with a sense of warmth looking at the people around him. He had found friends in this strange land, true friends.

"Well," Gandalf said, "I believe we are leaving the day after tomorrow. We had better get some rest."

The following day was spent making repairs to the outer wall and burying the dead.

The people of Rohan gathered their fallen. The bodies were cleaned and made to look like they were only sleeping. Families grieved, women and children crying for husbands and fathers. Saphira dug trenches with her paws, scooping out the earth and putting it to one side. The bodies were placed in gently, each family marking their loved one's grave with a small marker. Then Eragon buried them.

"Reisa," he whispered. The earth rose into the air, moving sideways and then slowly covering the bodies. He packed the earth in so that animals would find it hard to dig in it. "Crescere," he said. Grass grew over the mounds, covering the stark earth in a soft green carpet. Then little white flowers popped out of the soil, waving in the slight breeze. The flowers bloomed year after year, but they never strayed from the graves.

Each year, the people of Edoras would make the trip to Helm's Deep to honour their dead, and in the ages to come, anyone who saw the flowers would remember the sacrifice of the Men of Rohan.

The elves buried their dead the same way Alagaesian elves did, which Eragon found very interesting. They placed them in the ground, then placed a seed on each of their chests. Filling in the earth, they stood back. Wanting to help, Eragon asked them, "Would you like me to grow the trees for you?"

The elf in charge looked at him with tears in his eyes, the said quietly, "If you did, we would be forever grateful."

Reaching out to the Eldunarí, Eragon started to give the seeds energy. After a few seconds, shoots broke the ground all around them. A lone voice started to sing a haunting melody, slowly others joined in. the trees seemed to respond to the melody, swaying in tune. An hour later, Eragon stopped feeding the trees energy. Around him were trees that had twenty years of growth. There were many different types of trees – oak, cedar, ash, willow, hazelnut, apple, cherry blossom, beech, chestnut and many more. An elf took a seed from each tree. "To give to their families," one explained. Legolas stepped up to Eragon. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "They will never forget what you have done for them."

The orc bodies were gathered and piled at the edge of the valley. Saphira burned them until nothing was left but ashes. Unlike the graves of the Men of Rohan and the elves, this place remained barren forevermore.

Under the guidance of Gimli, the gap in the wall was partially filled. The foundations were redone and, with the help of Saphira, the largest stones were put back into place.

When they had finished repairing what they could of the outer wall, Gimli approached Eragon.

"Eragon, if you would like to follow me, there is something I think you would like to see."

Gimli led Eragon back through the gate, over to the yard and into a passage set into the mountain wall. They walked quietly for a couple of minutes, Eragon occasionally having to duck to avoid lumps of rock that Gimli didn't have to worry about. Suddenly, the passage opened out into an enormous cavern.

Eragon was speechless. The cavern rivalled even the greatest beauties of Tronjheim. The walls of the mighty cave glittered with uncut gems, sparkling in many different colours. The ceiling was no different, looking like a cloudless night sky. Gigantic white marble pillars held the cavern together, the columns infused with swirling patterns of dusty rose and duck-shell blue.

"Aye lad," Gimli said, chuckling. "That was my reaction too when I first saw it. It's breathtaking."

Eragon nodded slowly, simply awestruck by the sheer beauty. He noticed a large pile of rocks lying on the floor to their right. "What happened there?" he asked Gimli, pointing in their direction.

"Orcs," Gimli growled. "The explosion knocked some of the more delicate stalactites off the roof," he said, as the two of them walked towards the loose stone. As soon as Eragon could see it properly, he gasped. It was not stone, but gems. A pure gem stalactite had fallen, some of it smashing into bits, but much of it staying together in one piece. Reaching out with his mind to see the energy capacity of the gem, Eragon was blown away. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was enchanted. Just from a glance it seemed even a small piece of the gem could contain as much energy as ten big diamonds! It was incredible!

"Gimli, what do you think will happen to this gem?" Eragon asked.

"I wish I knew," Gimli replied glumly. If we dwarves had a wonder like this and a piece fell, we would treasure it still, perhaps slowly carving it to reveal even more beauty. But alas, these men do not appreciate what they have. It will probably be put in a corner and left to gather dust!"

Eragon thought hard. He could use this gem. If not in this war, then certainly it would help the future Riders.

"Gimli, do you think they might let me have it?" Eragon asked, a bit tentatively.

"They'd let you have anything you want, boy!" Gimli boomed. "You saved them, well, you and your dragon that is. Why do you want it?"

"I can store energy in it, and then during a battle I can use that energy to heal a wound, stop arrows or break open a gate to a castle. It has a great many uses."

"Hmm," said Gimli, intrigued. "Well, I'm sure they'd let you have it, but you'd better ask first, just in case."

With Saphira's help, because he was underground, Eragon searched the keep above with his mind until he found what he was looking for.

_Gandalf, it's Eragon. Can you hear me? Just think what you want to say and I'll understand._

_Eragon? This is very queer I must say._

_Gandalf, are you with the King?_

_I am._

_Would you please ask him if I could have some of the fallen gems in the caves?_

Bemused, Gandalf replied, _If that is what you wish. Just a moment._

There was a pause for a couple of moments, then, _Theoden says to take as much as you like. They have no need for it._

_Please tell him I say thank you. Myself and Gimli will meet you in the keep soon._

Eragon cut off the connection. "You were right, Theoden said I could have it. Now, Master Gimli, would you like to see some real magic?"

"Thrysta," Eragon said. All the pieces of gem that had broken off came flying back to land in a bag Eragon had pulled from his tunic. Placing the bag full of gem fragments beside the larger piece, Eragon repeated the spell the Eldunarí had taught him on Vroengard do long ago. With a pop, the bag and stone disappeared, now enclosed in a pocket of space a fixed distance behind Eragon's head.

"Amazing," breathed Gimli.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the coming journey. Supplies were gathered, carts filled, horses fed, watered and saddled.

That evening, they all met again in the keep. Gandalf said to the king, "Theoden, tomorrow, I ride to Orthanc to visit Saruman. I wish for you to come with me."

"Come with you!" Theoden exclaimed, "Why would you go towards the snake that tried to kill my people? You would need an army to get through those gates."

"Not anymore," Gandalf said, sounding satisfied. "The ownership of Orthanc has, ah, changed hands, I suppose you could say."

"What are you talking about, old man? Who could possibly have taken Orthanc from under Saruman's very long nose?"

"You would not believe me unless you saw it with your own eyes. Come Theoden. We will arrive back at Edoras at the same time as the rest of your people. Our small group will travel quickly."

"I cannot simply leave my people to fend for themselves! There could be orc packs hunting the plains. They would be slaughtered!"

"I would never suggest such a thing. Eragon and Saphira have said they would like to accompany us on our trip. With a dragon protecting us we will be safe. That means that the whole Rohirrim can guard the people on the way to Edoras. No orc pack would dare attack a thousand mounted warriors. This has all worked out very nicely hasn't it," said Gandalf, rather jauntily.

Eragon had to work rather hard to suppress a grin. Gandalf was a very clever old man.

""You tricked me!" Theoden said indignantly. Then he laughed, "But you're right, as you always are. I am curious to see Saruman's captors. We leave at daybreak!"

**So off we go again! I just want to say huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story! It makes it so much easier to write when you know that people are reading it! Special shoutout to Elemental Dragon Slayer, Mac Gustah, Leroy Allen, Deranged Silence and Ny'Kle – you guys are awesome.**

**On a sidenote, from now on I'll be trying to update this story every Thursday/Friday. Stay tuned for more, folks. Nym**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN I haven't said this before but obviously I don't own Inheritance Cycle or Lord of the Rings. All characters, places, names belong to Paolini and Tolkien respectively.**

**Chapter 9**

Helm's Deep was a hive of activity when dawn arrived. Final preparations were being made for the journey to Edoras. Supplies and belongings were gathered, donkeys and oxen hooked up to carts loaded with food. Some would also carry the elderly and the injured.

Two hours after the morning sun had risen, the last wagons trundled out the gates. The large column of people moving through the valley was flanked on either side by the armed Rohirrim, ready to lay down their lives to protect their people. At the head of the snaking column was Theoden, leading the small group that would soon change their course for Orthanc. Flying overhead was Saphira, high enough to see for miles in every direction.

Riding beside Theoden was a woman Eragon didn't recognise. She had a striking face, and fair hair like many of Rohan's people. Eragon directed his horse closer to Aragorn.

"Who is that woman speaking with the king?" he asked. "They seem close."

"They are," Aragorn replied. "That is Eowyn, sister to Eomer, and the King's niece. Her parents were killed many years ago by orcs. Theoden took her and her brother in. He is like a father to them both." He paused. "She is a strong, admirable woman. She will rule in Theoden's stead until he returns."

Eragon was surprised. "I did not know women were seen as equals to men in this land."

Aragorn sighed. "They are not, at least in the world of men. Eowyn is an exception. She is loved by the people of Rohan, and by Theoden himself. She is the daughter he never had. Among the elves it is different. Men and women are treated equally, and all have the same rights."

Theoden rode back to them from the front. "Well Gandalf, I've sent my fastest riders out to every village within thirty leagues of here. Anyone who can, will come to Edoras two days after the full moon, so we must return before then."

"Do not worry, Theoden," Gandalf admonished. "Our small group will travel quickly. But let us be off! We have many miles to cover, and a rogue wizard to see at the end of them! Run, Shadowfax, run!" he whispered to his horse. The white stallion took off like he had been struck by lightning, streaking away across the plains. The rest of the party urged their horses forward, galloping to try and catch the wizard and his steed.

For hours the horses ran across the plains, their endurance incredible for non-magical creatures. Eventually though, they needed to rest. Gandalf came back to the main group, Shadowfax seemingly unaffected by the long run compared to the other horses, whose sides were heaving.

They stopped by a river to let the horses have a drink. Legolas pulled what looked like a bunch of leaves from his bag. In fact, the leaves were just holding some kind of food together. Legolas broke the food into pieces, and gave a small bit to each of them.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf all tucked in, finishing their snack in a bite. Eragon, Theoden and Eomer, however, examined this new food before they ate it. Eragon had never seen anything like it. It looked some kind of bread, the width of his thumb. It was slightly spongey and it smelled wonderful.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It is called lembas," Legolas answered. "It is an elven waybread, given to us by the elves of Lothlorien. One bite can sustain a man for many hours. Try it," he added with a grin.

Eragon took a small bite, chewed and swallowed. It was delicious! The lembas tasted like it was freshly baked, reminding him of the bread his Aunt Marian used to make the bread. He quickly ate the remainder, and sure enough he soon felt as if he had just eaten a full meal.

"We will not need to stop again until tonight," said Gandalf.

They gathered up the horses again and continued on their way, albeit at a slower pace than in the morning. They rode until it was fully dark, then they made camp on the banks of the river. Saphira glided down to the ground, landing on the perimeter with a thump. She had a dead deer in her claws.

_I thought you might be hungry. I caught this for you when I went hunting earlier._

"Thank you, Saphira," Gimli said eagerly. "This lembas is all well and good for keeping you going, but there's nothing like a bit of meat in the belly to make a dwarf happy!"

While Eragon skinned and butchered the deer, Gimli and Aragorn gathered firewood and rocks, and, as per Eragon's request, a large, flat stone and wood to make a spit.

When all the firewood was gathered, Eragon set it out in a rectangular shape. On one side he piled it up so that the fire would lick the meat on the spit, and on the other side he placed the rocks on top of the wood, with the large flat stone over those rocks. Then he stood back, and said "Brisingr." Blue flames sprung into existence, eagerly consuming the wood. Eragon controlled the flames and made them hotter, heating the stones.

After Eragon had removed all the meat from the deer, he took a little pouch from the saddlebags. Inside it were herbs and salt he used to rub into the deer to give it flavour. He skewered the leg meat with sharp sticks and broke the rib cage in half. Laying the skewers between two forked branches stuck in the ground so the meat hung over the fire, Eragon then placed the two halves of the rib cage on top of the skewers, so they acted like a rack. The juices from the ribs dripped down on the meat below, making sure no flavour was lost.

Eragon then turned his attention to the now blisteringly hot rock. On it he placed some of the organs from the deer – the kidneys, liver, heart and lungs. They sizzled on the make-shift pan, the delicious smells wafting tantalisingly around the camp. Next Eragon cooked some thinly sliced strips of meat. They were finished quickly, and quickly devoured by everyone there. The excess meat Eragon cut into strips and dried with a spell, storing it in his pack for the next day's ride.

Finally, the meat on the spit was finished cooking. Everyone used their own knife to carve off what they wanted, and soon there was nothing left.

"You are full of surprises, Eragon," Gandalf said. "A Dragon Rider, a healer, a swordsman, and also a master cook!"

They all laughed, even Saphira.

"My Aunt taught me how to cook when I was young. She said that every man should know how to cook his own dinner, and not just let his wife do it for him!" Eragon's smile faded slightly, "She was right. And I had a lot of time to practise my skills when I was running from the Empire."

And so Eragon began to tell stories of his life in Alagaesia.

Upon request from Gimli, Eragon told the group more about Tronjheim, from the Star Rose to Vol Turin, the different clans to the gods. Legolas was more interested in Du Weldenvarden and Ellesmera, while Aragorn wanted to know more about Nasuada and how she led the Varden. Gandalf absorbed it all quietly, but took great amusement from Eragon's stories about Angela and Solembum, the old man laughing louder than all of his younger companions.

Eragon had an idea. "Let me show you. Let me show you some of my memories. Open your minds and do not try to fight it."

He recalled everything he wanted to show them. The leaders of Alagaesia, his family, Tronjheim, Ellesmera, Uru'baen, Teirm, some of the battles he had fought in and more. Saphira had dozed off to sleep behind them, and only the sound of the nearby river could be heard.

Slowly, Eragon eased them out of his memories.

For a while, there was silence in the camp, Eragon's companions trying to absorb what they had just seen.

An owl hooting in the distance stirred them from their thoughts.

"Incredible," murmured Aragorn. "In some ways your land seems similar to ours, but in others they could not be more different. Teirm is very like Gondor. It too is a tiered city."

"Aye," said Gimli, "and I have never seen such mountains as the Beors! Even the smallest must be three times taller than Erebor! And the city beneath! It is a work of beauty itself! And the Star-Rose…" Gimli trailed off, lost for words.

Legolas picked up the conversation. "Du Weldenvarden is a magnificent forest. To be so big that even a dragon high in the sky cannot see its end is impressive indeed. I wish I could walk through those ancient trunks myself," he said rather wistfully.

"The Varden's leader, Nasuada you say her name is. She is a very talented woman. Without her, the Varden would never have succeeded. To lead an army and sustain a homeless army and people is no small feat. Not only that, but not once did you lose a battle under her guidance. She will make a great Queen," Theoden finished.

Eomer, who had kept mostly quiet, now piped up. "Your cousin, Roran, seems like a hero from the old stories. To lead your village across a mountain range to protect them and then fight against monsters from a nightmare to get his lady back is something from the songs. He is very clever as well. Never would I have thought of creating a battering ram out of barges to break into a city."

"Angela is certainly an unusual woman," chuckled Gandalf. "Her wit is as sharp as her tongue, as is her mind. She must be very interesting company!"

Eragon laughed at all their responses, feeling a sense of pride at their approval of his land and his friends and family. "Tomorrow, you will have to tell me more about Middle Earth. I am sure there is more to it than war and death."

"There certainly is, my friend," said Aragorn, "but you are right. Tomorrow is the time for those stories. Now, we should rest. We have another long day of riding ahead of us."

They all tiredly mumbled their agreement. Eragon made his way over to Saphira, lying against her warm belly. Just as his consciousness started to drift away into the realms of dreams, he sensed a leathery blue wing come down, keeping him safe.

They rode hard the next day, but Saphira lazily kept pace overhead, soaking up the sun.

Late in the afternoon, they came upon the fords where Eragon and Saphira had first seen the orcs.

"The Fords of Isen," Theoden said grimly, dismounting from his horse. The rest followed suit.

They gathered the bodies of the fallen riders to bury, bringing them one side of the river. Saphira dug a large hole with her paws, scooping the earth to the side. They gently placed the bodies in, Saphira covering them over. Eragon smoothed the ground into a mound. Eomer gathered the spears of the fallen warriors, then put them point down in the earth around the mound, like sentinels guarding the bodies. Legolas took out a seed from his pack, planting it atop the small hill. Channelling energy into it, Eragon grew the seed like he had in Helm's Deep. Soon, there was a fifteen foot rowan tree standing proudly on the mound, marking the spot forevermore.

The orcs they dragged to the opposite bank, where Saphira burnt them to ashes, armour and all.

That evening Eragon did indeed hear stories of Middle Earth. Gandalf shared with them all the full story of Thorin Oakenshield and his companions, and how they journeyed from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain, with all their adventures in between. Gimli took over from Gandalf, describing how the dwarves had prospered since Dain of the Iron Hills became King. He told them about the city of Dale, and how it had been rebuilt.

Legolas talked about the elves of Mirkwood, while Aragorn spoke about Rivendell and his time in the wilds as a Ranger.

Theoden and Eomer told stories of Rohan, from ruling to training the Rohirrim.

That night, they all went to sleep content, but starting to feel nervous about their destination.

At midday on the third day of their journey, they came to a halt. In front of them was a small forest.

"This should not be here," said Theoden, alarmed. "This road has always been kept clear, how can a forest appear out of nowhere? It is impossible."

"It is not impossible," said Gandalf, cryptically. "We must go through."

_Saphira?_

_He is right, _she answered. _The quickest way is straight through, and the road appears to come out on the other side. Be careful though Eragon, I can sense hatred in this forest, and unless my eyes deceive me, something seems to be moving in the trees._

_I'm always careful Saphira. You should know that by now, _he teased.

_Very funny, Little One._

"Saphira says the quickest way is straight through, and the road comes out on the other side. There is darkness in these trees though, we must take care."

"Saphira is right," Gandalf said, looking at Eragon. He turned his attention back to the forest in front of them. "Now let us be off, we have no time to waste. And Gimli, please take your hand off your axe. As Eragon said, we must be careful around these trees." Gimli grumbled.

They set off, entering the forest two by two. Eragon urged his horse forward so he was beside Gandalf at the front of their small column.

"Saphira also said that she could see something moving in the trees," Eragon said quietly to Gandalf.

"Saphira has very good eyesight," he replied.

They travelled silently through the forest, following the road. The trees were twisted and close together, their branches blocking out the light. Once or twice Eragon thought he saw eyes in the darkness, but he figured his mind was playing tricks on him. After an hour of slow trotting, they saw light ahead, and they all sped up, eager to be free of the suffocating trees.

Eventually they broke free onto the open plains, everyone feeling relieved, especially Gimli. "Dwarves are not meant to be in forests," he said loudly.

The horses ran until night had fallen. They camped at the foot of the Misty Mountains, which were about the size of the Spine.

That evening, Aragorn told Eragon and Saphira why the war was happening. He told them about Sauron, the Ring, and the Fellowship. He described the journey so far and where the other companions who had left Rivendell were.

When he finished speaking, the Lead Rider and Dragon realised fully how much they needed to help. From what Aragorn had described, this Sauron was far worse than Galbatorix. At least at some point Galbatorix had been a man. Sauron sounded like the embodiment of evil, and he must never be allowed to reach Alagaesia.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Tomorrow we should reach Isengard. I do not expect that we will be attacked, but nonetheless, we must be vigilant. It would not do for any one of us to be hurt or killed."

"Will you not share with us why you believe we will be safe?" asked Theoden. "As much as I trust you Gandalf, I find it very hard to believe that Saruman would let us enter Isengard unharmed."

"Saruman will have no say in the matter," Gandalf said. "And no, I will not tell you why we will be safe. I would rather see the looks of surprise on your faces. Now, time for bed, I think!"

Four days after they left Helm's Deep, and their destination was at hand. The air around them was full of mist, and the sounds of creaking wood could be heard.

"Eragon, I think it would be best if Saphira landed," Gandalf said.

_Did you hear that?_

_Yes, _she said, as she thumped down beside them, startling the horses.

_Hilarious Saphira, _Eragon said sarcastically. _You couldn't be funnier if you tried._

Walking along a cracked stone road, a massive wall loomed out of the mists. Where once there must have stood an iron gate thirty feet tall, now there was a gaping hole in the wall, the gate lying in two crumpled heaps. Stone blocks were lying about in front of them. It looked as if a giant had got bored and decided to destroy the wall, tearing it apart piece by piece.

Gandalf urged Shadowfax forward, through the wreckage of the wall to whatever lay beyond. He was closely followed by Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, with Theoden and Eomer trotting after them.

_Time to meet this Saruman then, _Saphira said.

_Aye._

_Well we'd better get going or they'll think we got lost. Come on!_

Together they started forward, the gate big enough for even a dragon to walk to. The dragon and rider entered Isengard, disappearing into the mists.

**AN I'm sorry! One day late I know I know please forgive me. Also apologies, it's a bit of a filler chapter but there's a nice bit of dialogue and relationship building. Some unexpected events next chapter! ;) So please leave a review, tell me what you think. Nym**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN Sorry sorry sorry! Please forgive me! Study is wrecking everything! I'll try my best to update more. Also WARNING – one slightly graphic description**

**Chapter 10**

Emerging from the mists, Eragon got his first proper look at Isengard. The wall they had just walked through continued around in a giant ring, which Eragon guessed to be about a mile wide. On the inside edge of the ring were many buildings, most of which looked to be barracks. There were also store houses, armouries and what appeared to be some types of living quarters.

In the very centre of Isengard was a tower. A black tower that radiated power and seemed impregnable. Unlike the rest of Isengard, the stone tower didn't have a scratch on it.

The great plain within the walls was divided into quadrants and criss-crossed with roads, with many deep holes going down into the earth. Everything was in ruin though, as if some terrible fury of nature had come through, destroying everything it could and flooding everything that was left. Steam was rising from the shafts in the ground, obscuring the view and giving the area a mysterious feel.

Eragon spotted the group heading towards one of the store houses. He trotted to catch up, Saphira following at a slower pace, taking in everything around her.

Just as he reached them, he heard Gimli say loudly, "Well, well, well. We've been chasing you two rascals across half of Middle Earth, fighting orcs every step of the way! I have not rested my poor legs since we left Rivendell so long ago, and here we find you two," he struggled for a moment to find the right word, "ragamuffins, feasting and smoking from Saruman's personal stores! Explain yourselves!"

"We two hobbits," said a young voice, "were kidnapped from our friends and dragged by an orc pack across the land, until we escaped after nearly being killed in an ambush. Escaping into Fangorn we found some…unusual friends. They are the ones who have…redecorated Isengard, I suppose you could say. We are merely enjoying the spoils of war, dear Gimli. It seems that Saruman has a fancy for Longbottom Leaf, and there's enough for you all to fill your pouches!"

As he rounded the group, he saw who Gimli was talking to. They were the size of children, although they had particularly large and hairy feet. Of course, Eragon knew they were not children. They were hobbits, by the names of Pippin and Merry.

One of the hobbits – Eragon thought it was Pippin, from how Aragorn had described them – added, "The salted pork is particularly good!"

"Well," Gimli grumbled.

"Who are these friends of yours?" Legolas asked them. "I would very much like to know what creature has the power to destroy Isengard."

Merry laughed. "I think you will like our friends the most, Legolas. And we will meet them, soon in fact. Gandalf," Merry turned to talk to the old wizard, "Treebeard knew you were coming. He is on the other side of Isengard. He asked you to go to him when you arrived."

"Very well," Gandalf agreed, "but first you need to meet some of our friends. This is Eomer, captain of the Rohirrim. It was they who slayed the orc pack that captured you."

"My thanks to you," said Pippin, "I thought I would die there, and we almost did, but you saved us."

"Yes, yes," Gandalf said impatiently. "Now, this is King Theoden, the King of Rohan."

"I am glad to find you both unharmed," Theoden said, "I admit, I did not think we would find you so."

"And this is Eragon," Gandalf said quickly, before Pippin or Merry could reply. "He's not from Alagaesia, but he saved the people of Rohan from certain death. He did not come alone however, he has a companion."

_Saphira?_

He could tell from the expressions on the faces of the two hobbits in front of him that Saphira had just stepped out of the mists behind them.

From his right, he heard Gandalf laugh, clearly enjoying Saphira's dramatic entrance. Aragorn and Legolas were chuckling as well, while Gimli was smirking at the hobbits expense.

"Is that?..." Pippin squeaked, clearly terrified.

"Yes Peregrin Took. That is a dragon, and her name is Saphira."

_Hello, little two-legs._

"Aghhh! Merry groaned, clutching his head. "What was that? What was that voice?"

Eragon decided to tell him himself. "That was Saphira. She is able to talk to you as easily as I am talking to you now, but only through her mind. She can hear you if you speak out loud, but she will reply in your head."

"Saphira is the reason we are still alive," Aragorn said to the hobbits. "She almost single-handedly killed 10,000 Uruk'hai. Even if we had survived without her being there, our dead would have been many more."

Merry stood up. "I am forever grateful to you, Saphira," he said, voice shaking slightly, "for saving my friends. I do not know what I would have done without them."

"Me too!" Pippin said quickly, hurriedly standing up to join Merry.

_You are very welcome, little hobbits._

"Well, now that the greetings are over, it's time we met Treebeard. Merry, you come with me, Pippin go with Aragorn," said Gandalf. He rode up to the wall that the hobbits were sitting on and placed Merry in front of him, Aragorn doing the same with Pippin.

They turned around and started walking towards Orthanc, the black tower looming over them all.

They were within a stone's throw of tower when Pippin pointed and said, "There's Treebeard."

They looked in the direction he was pointing and Eragon gasped aloud, along with the entirety of the group except Gandalf.

Walking towards them was a thirty foot –

_Tree? _asked Saphira. _Is that a tree?_

_I think so, _Eragon said disbelievingly, not quite trusting his eyes. He laughed suddenly.

_What is it?_

_Can you imagine Arya's face if she could see this? Or Oromis or Brom? The elves would never stop singing! _He tried very hard to contain his mirth, but a few chuckles still escaped, earning him a sideways glance from Eomer.

As Treebeard approached, the group stopped, Saphira staying beside Eragon. When he spoke, it was the oldest voice Eragon had ever heard, layered with time, memory and pain.

"Gandalf," Treebeard said in his slow, creaking voice, "You have come."

"I have. I see you have taken ownership of Isengard."

"The Ents decided," he answered, in his ancient voice, "that Saruman was no longer fit to rule. He let evil come into his heart, and he cut down much of my forest," he ended, his voice raising, and Eragon could sense the underlying fury, and knew immediately how Isengard came to be in the state it was in.

"Where is Saruman, Treebeard?" Gandalf asked.

"The wizard is hiding like a rat in its hole, and he will not come out. We have tried to break the tower down, but we cannot make even a single scratch," he said angrily.

Treebeard looked around the rest of their group, and his eyes landed on Saphira. He trumpeted, "You bring a dragon to my forest! Wood and fire do not mix!"

More Ents came running to his call, standing behind him, ready to attack if need be.

"Treebeard! Treebeard!" Gandalf shouted. "Please, my friend, do not attack! This dragon is not like any dragons you have met before! She is not of Middle Earth, and she is as intelligent as you and I! She saved us from Saruman's army and she has no cause to harm you unless you attack her! Please, calm yourselves!"

They quieted, and Treebeard said, "I am trusting you Gandalf, but if that dragon breathes fire, I will do anything to protect my forest!"

_Are you ok, Saphira?_

_I'm fine. They couldn't hurt me even if they wanted to. They are made of wood, and I am a dragon,_ she said, but Eragon could tell that she was on edge.

"Come," Gandalf said to them, "we must speak with Saruman."

He led them closer to Orthanc, until they were looking up at a balcony.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called up, "Stop hiding like a coward! Come out and speak!"

A white figure emerged from within the tower, a hunched, dirty figure at his side.

"So, it is true," a slithering voice said, "Gandalf the Grey is no more. You old fool, if you think to take my place, you are mistaken. I am Saruman the White, and none can match me!"

"You are more deluded than I thought," Gandalf said matter-of-factly. "None can match you, you say. What about your master? He who resides in Mordor? You think yourself more powerful than Sauron? Bah. You are nothing. Your army is destroyed, the Men of Rohan still live. Even nature has turned against you, Saruman. Isengard is a ruin."

Saruman's expression soured, and the man beside him came into the light.

"Gríma," Theoden called out, "Gríma, come down. Come back with us. You were a man of Rohan once, you can be again."

"A man of Rohan?" Saruman laughed. He backhanded Gríma across the face, knocking him to the floor. "He is no more than a dog." He spat on the man at his feet.

"You have no power here, old man. Your trees cannot harm Orthanc, and no man may breach its walls."

Now it was Gandalf's turn to laugh. "You are right, Saruman. Orthanc is a fortress no man may enter. But there are more than men with me."

_Saphira, would you be so kind as to let our dear friend here know what a dragon is capable of? _Gandalf asked.

Still hidden from Saruman's view by the mists, Saphira roared. It echoed around Isengard, coming back at them again and again, each wave amplifying the sound. Eragon glanced up at Saruman to see terror on his face, and then his face turned the same shade of white as his cloak, all the colour draining away when Saphira revealed herself, roaring once more for good measure.

Suddenly Saruman raised his staff and shouted something in a strange language, a bolt of dark energy streaking towards Saphira.

"SAPHIRA!" Eragon screamed, preparing to throw all his energy in front of her to stop the bolt. Before he could react however, it was caught on what appeared to be a white shield of energy, the bolt dissipating into nothingness, while the blinding whiteness slowly faded away to reveal Gandalf, sitting majestically upon Shadowfax, staff held aloft.

"Saruman, you have lost. Surrender yourself."

"Never," the wizard spat.

"In that case, you have left me no choice. Saruman, your staff is broken." It crumbled to dust in his hands. "I Gandalf the White, strip you of your powers. You can no longer call yourself wizard, now leave Orthanc and be gone."

"You have no control over me!" Saruman screamed maniacally. Suddenly, he started choking, clutching at his chest. When he moved his hands they could see a blood-stained knife emerge from between his ribs. It slid out and Gríma appeared , raising the knife above his head, ready to plunge it into Saruman's body once more. Just as the knife started to descend, Gríma jolted, an arrow embedded in his neck. He collapsed, disappearing from view.

Looking left, Eragon saw Legolas with his bow out, nocking another arrow.

Returning his attention to the drama above, Eragon watched, as if time had slowed down, as Saruman swayed to one side, then the other, before slowly tipping forward and falling face-first off the balcony.

They all watched, silently, as the body fell, turning over and over until its descent ended sickeningly, spearing itself upon broken wheel spoke.

There was silence among the group for several moments. Something fell out of Saruman's pocket into the water, and Pippin jumped off Aragorn's horse, quickly picking up. To Eragon it just seemed like a glass ball, but Pippin was entranced, staring into into.

"I'll take that, my lad," Gandalf said, holding out his hand.

Pippin seemed reluctant to hand it over, keeping it for a few more moments, before gently placing it into Gandalf's outstretched palm.

Gandalf quickly covered the sphere with his cloak, hiding it from view.

"Now what?" Gimli asked.

"Now, Master Dwarf, we leave," replied Gandalf.

"We leave?" Eragon wondered. "You don't want to go in?"

"Unfortunately Eragon, Saruman was telling the truth. The door to Orthanc is barred, and we have no way of entering."

"Except by dragon," Eragon said, grinning. "Saphira can fly us up to the balcony and we can get in that way."

"Would you allow us?"

_Of course. You are friends._

"I think I will stay down here," Gimli said, "dwarves are meant to keep their two feet on the ground."

"So are hobbits," Merry added.

"I too will remain here," Theoden said, "flying is not for old kings."

"I shall keep you company," Eomer told him.

It took Saphira two trips to bring the four of them up. First she took Gandalf and Legolas, then Eragon and Aragorn.

Eragon leaped from Saphira's back onto the balcony, Aragorn following him.

Straightening up, Eragon looked down to see Gríma lying in a pool of his own blood, the arrow shaft glistening red. He turned his gaze to the darkened doorway, seeing Gandalf and Legolas examining the room ahead.

"There are some books I would like to find, tomes on the history of Middle Earth and ancient lore. Come, there is nothing of value in here."

Gandalf led them to a central, spiralling staircase and brought them up several levels, until they reached a closed door. Opening it revealed an old, musty library. While Gandalf searched the shelves, Aragorn, Legolas and Eragon stayed by the doorway. Every few minutes Gandalf would return to them and give each of them a book to hold. When he was finally finished, the three of them had five or six big, heavy books each, while Gandalf's arms were empty.

"That is it. Everything else in this tower is tainted with evil. Now come, quickly, we must return to the others."

Three of them shared an amused look as the old wizard led them down the stairs. Eragon expected Gandalf to lead them to the balcony once more, but instead he continued down the stairs until they reached the very bottom.

Seeing Eragon's confused expression, he said, "The front door can only be opened from the inside, and now that we are inside, I feel that it is certainly safer to leave this way than by jumping on to the back of a dragon."

Reaching the solid stone door, Gandalf wordlessly tapped it twice with his staff, and it swung inward without a sound, light streaming into the dark tunnel.

The four stepped out into the misty light, walking over to their surprised companions.

"I see you could not pass up a chance of more knowledge," Theoden said knowingly to Gandalf.

"You are right, but I did not them of how to carry them with me," Gandalf said ruefully.

_I can take them, if you wish, _Saphira said to him. _There is plenty of room in the saddle-bags._

So it was that Eragon soon had all of the books carefully stored away. As they mounted their horses to leave, Gandalf said, "What will you do now, Treebeard?"

"The Ents will return this valley to the way it once was," he said slowly. "Isengard will be no more, except for Saruman's tower. We cannot break it."

Eragon carefully probed the tower with his mind, trying to see what made it so strong. To his surprise and shock, he found it was held together with an unbelievable amount of energy. The men of old who had built the tower must have been strong magic users, he realised.

"Treebeard," he said. Treebeard looked at him, as did the rest of the group. "This tower is unbreakable, because it is strengthened and protected with magic, but I can remove it if you wish."

Treebeard stared intently at him for several minutes, and Eragon stared right back. Finally, he simply said, "Yes."

"I don't know what will happen when I remove the energy. The tower may stay standing, or it could collapse. We should move back just to be safe."  
They retreated until they would be in no danger, and then Eragon began.

He joined his mind with Saphira's, and together they stripped the tower of its protection.

It seemed as if each stone was imbued with energy, as well as the mortar between them, and the whole tower had a protective layer over it, as if it had been painted on.

This is what Saphira and Eragon worked on first. They slowly but surely removed the protection, channelling the energy into the gems Eragon had gathered from Helm's Deep. After half an hour, the last bit of the protective layer was removed, and it seemed as if a ripple passed over the tower's surface.

"Is it done?" Legolas asked.

"Not quite yet," Eragon replied.

Together he and Saphira reached out once more, and as soon as their minds accessed the unprotected energy, it raced through them and into the gem, saturating it and filling the sapphire in Brisingr's pommel as well. The pair felt energised, as if they had slept for days.

"Now it is done," Eragon said.

Beside him Treebeard bellowed, and it sounded as if nature itself roaring. He picked up a boulder and flung it at Orthanc as a man would throw a pebble. It sailed through the air before crashing into the top of the tower, turning it into rubble.

He bellowed again, and the rest of the Ents joined him, the sound shaking Eragon's bones. The ancient trees loped towards the tower – which by now was starting to crumble.

The group turned their horses around and walked the half mile towards the gates, listening to the sounds of destruction behind them. Before they passed through the broken outer wall of Isengard, they stopped to check what remained of Orthanc.

It was gone. The Ents had avenged their forest.

They turned back around and continued on, setting their course for Edoras.

The reign of Saruman was over.

**AN Hope you liked it. Again, really sorry for the lack of updates **** but on the bright side, Game of Thrones is tonight! Please leave some feedback! Nym x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**AN I'm so sorry! It's been a ridiculously long time since I last posted **** Exams have been really stressful and long and let's just say that chemistry is a bitch. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Nym x**

It took them a week to arrive at Edoras. Eragon spent most the journey riding by horse with the group, learning more about his companions and their home. He found the hobbits particularly interesting. They were an incredible people, always smiling and joking, making the rest of them laugh even though the future seemed grim.

Saphira spent the days floating lazily above them, regaining her strength from the battle of Helms Deep. She gorged on the herds of wild deer that roamed the grasslands, each day her energy growing. With the sun blazing high in the sky above, Saphira's scales glinted like gems, catching their eyes and momentarily blinding them. This would inevitably be followed by some kind of compliment on her beauty and majesty, which Saphira was only too happy to accept.

As they rode through the gates of Edoras and up the winding streets towards the keep, a great cheer went up from the townsfolk.

"Theoden!" they called. "Theoden! The King has returned!"

As they crested the hill on which the keep stood, they dismounted their horses and strode into the hall. Inside were Theoden's advisors and leaders of the Rohirrim.

Theoden walked slowly to the top of the hall, the rest of the group hanging back. When he reached his throne, he turned to face them, and said, "Tonight, we feast!"

This time going on foot, Eragon was able to better appreciate Edoras for the beautiful town that it was. It was wrapped around a small hill, the main pathway winding around like string. From the top you could see for miles in every direction. A mountain range to the south-west, open plains everywhere else.

Scanning his surroundings, Eragon spotted Saphira curled up on a neighbouring mound. He quickened his pace, soon passing through the gates. He broke into a jog, and within minutes he had reached Saphira. Wordlessly, he started to take her saddle off. She hadn't had it off for more than a couple of hours since they had arrived in Middle Earth.

_Better? _Eragon asked.

_Mmmm, _Saphira hummed, flexing her cramped muscles, _Thank you, Little One._

With her saddle now off, Saphira could stretch herself fully, and she draped her long body across the top of the hill, basking in the sun. Eragon lay down next to her warm belly and slipped into a state of mindfulness, aware of everything in his surroundings but staying relaxed. The pair stayed like this for hours, revelling in each other's company, and glad that they finally had some time to themselves.

As the day grew older, Eragon sensed that the feast had begun in Edoras. He slowly came back to full consciousness, noticing that it was now dusk.

_Little One, _Saphira said, _When did you last scry Nasuada? Or any of our friends in Alagaesia?_

Eragon jolted, realising with a lurch that he had completely forgotten the promise that he had made to Nasuada, Orik and Arya before he left Alagaesia.

Saphira sent a wave of love and reassurance across their link. _It's alright, Eragon, _she soothed._ You've had a lot on your mind. You can't remember everything._

_It's not alright Saphira. You know it's not. I'm the Lead Rider. I have to remember everything, _he replied. _And come to think of it, the last time I scryed anyone was before we crossed the sea. That was at least a moon's turn ago._

He stood up quickly and walked over to the saddle-bags, fishing out a small mirror, and then returning to his spot by Saphira.

"Draumr kópa," Eragon intoned, channelling his magic into the words, allowing him to speak to the person he was scrying as well as just seeing them.

The surface of the mirror went dark, and then colours came together to form an image. Eragon was looking at a study. He could see a wooden desk, stone walls, a window looking out at a blue sky, and a woman.

"Queen Nasuada," he greeted.

Her head shot up, a clearly startled look on her face. She looked wildly around the room for a moment, before her eyes finally settled on the mirror and Eragon's own face.

"Eragon," she breathed. She regained her composure slightly, and said in a much more measured voice, "Are you trying to scare me to death? You almost gave me heart failure!"

"I'm sorry, Nasuada," Eragon said, laughing, "That was not my intention." His eyes were twinkling with happiness – he had forgotten just how much he missed his friends.

They both lapsed into silence for a few moments, each studying the other's reflection. Nasuada, Eragon noted, seemed tired but happy – and healthy. Queenship suited her well.

"So, Eragon," Nasuada started, "How are you? _Where_ are you? It has been more than a month since we last spoke, is everything all right?" Eragon could detect the slight hint of concern in her voice.

"Well…" Eragon began. He told her everything that had happened since he crossed the sea on Saphira's back, from the bodies at the ford to the battle of Helms Deep, to Fangorn Forest and the Ents to Saruman and Isengard. When he finished, Nasuada's face – although still – was clearly worried.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, and said, "Do these creatures, these _orcs_, pose a danger to Alagaesia?"

"No," Eragon said quickly. "Although they are bloodthirsty creatures and they love war, they do not possess the intelligence to cross the sea or survive the long journey they would need to make to reach you. Even if they did, I have no doubt that between the armies of men, elves and dwarves in Alagaesia, you would make short work of them."

Nasuada leant back in her chair, relieved. Eragon was not finished, however.

"The orcs themselves are not a threat, but their masters are." Nasuada sat up again, steepling her hands in front of her face. Eragon continued, "From what Gandalf and Aragorn have told me, he is worse than Galbatorix. He has absolute control over his armies and lands. He is evil. His most powerful servants are creatures similar to the Ra'zac, and they have steeds like lethrblaka. The only difference is that there are nine of them."

"What should we do?" Nasuada asked, troubled. "We just finished one war, one that lasted over a hundred years. We don't have the resources or the energy for another, not so soon."

Eragon tried his best to reassure her. "Myself and Saphira will do our best to make sure it doesn't come to that. Their armies are large, but not invincible. We destroyed an army of ten thousand Uruk'hai only a week ago – some of their best warriors. The people of Middle Earth will not go down without a fight, either." He could see that she was still worried.

"Even if we are defeated, and even if the enemy decides to explore, they would not reach Alagaesia for a long time. It took myself and Saphira five months to fly here from the edge of Alagaesia – and that was by dragon! It would take an army far longer! At least two years, I'd say."

"What do you suggest we do?" Nasuada asked. "We can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"I will scry you again, in one month. Until then, there is no need for you to do anything. But if I do not contact you, then start preparing. They may never come to Alagaesia, but it would not do to assume that. You must be prepared. Fortify the towns and cities, keep the army in shape, build siege weapons, grow crops and store food. If they arrive, they will do so from the direction I came, so have an outpost near Hedarth. Try not to cause mass panic, in all likelihood they will never arrive."

"And what about you?" Nasuada asked. "What will happen to the Riders if you and Saphira are killed?" she asked quietly.

Eragon responded in a calm voice, "If we are killed, leadership of the Dragon Riders will pass to Arya and Fírnen. They will raise the order."

"Is that right? To be both Queen of the Elves and Leader of the Riders?" Nasuada asked.

"We do not have a choice. Saphira and I cannot run from this fight, and Arya and Fírnen are the only others who can lead our order. If it comes to it, I know they will do well."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, Nasuada telling Eragon about the state of things in Alagaesia. It was now summer, and crops were growing well. The people were happy and towns and cities were slowly being rebuilt. There were still a few bands of rogue soldiers roaming the plains but they were being hunted down one by one. The slavers were gone – in jail or killed. Dras Leona was being razed to the ground, and there were plans to completely rebuild it – Eragon was particularly happy at this piece of news.

When Nasuada finished, she said, "Alagaesia cannot afford to fight another war, Eragon. And it cannot afford to lose you. Make sure you come back to us."

"I will, my lady. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Eragon."

Nasuada's face faded, the mirror once again turning black. Eragon took a deep breath, composing himself, before once more saying, "Draumr kópa."

An empty room materialised.

"Hello?" Eragon said.

A short figure entered the frame, a child.

"May I speak to King Orik?" Eragon asked.

"Of course, Argetlam," the child replied, bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet. "One moment, please," and she ran out of the picture, presumably to go find her King.

One moment turned into several minutes, but eventually Eragon could hear a commotion coming towards the empty room. It kept getting louder, until –

"Eragon!" Orik greeted. "My brother! How are you? It has been a while since we talked last."

"Orik, it is good to see you. It has been too long, I am sorry about that." Eragon proceeded to tell Orik everything he told Nasuada, and Orik had much the same reaction, his face becoming grimmer and grimmer.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it seems, for you and soon for us!"

Eragon gave him the same advice he gave to Nasuada. "If they do eventually come, they'll arrive from that direction. Close up unused tunnels, protect your vulnerable towns. Keep your army strong and your axes sharp!"

"We will, my friend, we will. They will come through without a fight!"

Orik told Eragon about the dwarven kingdom. It seemed that they were doing as well as the Empire, crops were good, the clans were co-operating, and towns abandoned during The Fall were slowly but surely being repopulated.

"In case you wanted to know, Vermund, the leader of Az Swelden Rak Anhuin, is dead. He was killed in a scuffle by someone from his own clan. The rest of them do not want to live in isolation."

"Good," Eragon said harshly.

"I agree," Orik said dryly, "But we still have to watch them. Vermund may be gone but his supporters aren't."

"Hmm…" Eragon said. There was silence again for a few moments.

"Be careful, Eragon. You had better come back. Whatever you say about Arya leading if you were gone, the Riders need you. You are friends with every race, I don't think she will accomplish the same feat easily."

"I'll be careful, Orik. I'll scry you in a month to prove it!"

"Goodbye, brother."

Orik's face faded, leaving Eragon staring at a reflection of himself.

He talked to the Urgals for a few minutes, not mentioning the possible war in the future – he didn't want to get there hopes up. They were settling in well in their new lands, enjoying the fact that they were no longer being hunted.

He scryed Roran, this time simply observing. He didn't want to worry him about something he could do nothing about. He watched as Roran – along with Horst and others from the village – fit together logs to form a wall of a house. A woman came towards the group, as she got closer Eragon saw it was Katrina, looking healthier than he had ever seen her. He saw Ismira on her hip, her shock of red hair making her stand out. Eragon kept watching for a few more minutes, then he withdrew.

H had to spent a few minutes preparing himself for the last one, the last person he had to talk to.

_Come on Eragon, man up. She doesn't bite, _Saphira said playfully, flicking him with the tip of her tail.

_Alright, alright. You're nervous too, I can tell._

_Pffft._

"Draumr kópa."

A bright hall appeared, a long table with elves seated around it, and one elf seated at its head. They had been talking about something, but they all fell silent as Eragon appeared in their midst, their eyes drawn to him.

Eragon had eyes for only one elf there.

"Leave us, please," a clear voice said.

Together, the elves seated around the table stood up soundlessly, leaving the room gracefully.

"Astra esterní ono thelduin," he said.

"Astra du evarínya ono varda," she replied.

"Arya."

"Eragon."

They simply observed one another for a few moments.

"It has been more than a month since you last scryed," Arya said, slightly icily.

"I know. I'm sorry. I lost track of time."

"You lost track of time?" Arya said incredulously. "The last time we spoke, the only things you had encountered were deer and grass, and they are not enough to make you forget your promise." She sighed, calming herself. "I know you, Eragon." He shivered. "You would not forget us unless something greater was occupying your mind. What happened?"

He told her. He didn't leave out a single detail, including things he hadn't told Nasuada or Orik because they seemed trivial. As he spoke, Arya remained silent, her mouth setting into a grim line.

When he finished, Eragon said, "Arya, if we do not come back-"

"Don't say that. Don't."

"I have to, you know that. I have to make sure that the Dragon Riders will continue. If we do not come back, you and Fírnen will become Lead Rider and Lead Dragon."

"I cannot be both Queen and Leader of the Riders, it is too much power for one person," Arya said to him.

"Hopefully that will never happen, but it may, and I trust you to do what is right," Eragon said. Arya's shoulders sagged, worry weighing heavily on her.

A large, green, scaly head entered Eragon's field of view, stopping beside Arya.

"Hello, Fírnen," Eragon greeted. Saphira picked her head up, moving it closer so that she could see Fírnen for herself.

Arya spoke for Fírnen. "Greetings, Eragon. Hello, Saphira," he said.

_Please tell him I say hello, Eragon._

"Saphira says hello to you too, Fírnen." The two dragons stared intensely at one another, separated only by a mirror.

"Eragon," Arya said, drawing his attention, "You might have faith in me, but you are the Lead Rider. It is your duty to lead the Shur'tugal. Not mine. They need you. You saved this land, you gave the dragons a future. Now you must lead your order."

"I cannot leave, Arya. These people need our help. If they are defeated, if this evil spreads, there will be no future for the dragons, for anyone."

"I'm not saying you should leave, I'm saying you have to win. You are right, Alagaesia cannot survive another war. Win, and then come back," Arya said, almost pleading.

"I will. I'll scry you in a month. Goodbye Arya," Eragon said.

"Goodbye, Eragon. Be safe. Saphira, Fírnen says goodbye, and may your teeth stay strong and your claws stay sharp."

"Goodbye Fírnen," Eragon said for Saphira.

The mirror turned black for the final time, and Eragon released a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Taking a look around him, he saw that night had fallen. Edoras was glowing with pinpricks of light here and there, and Eragon could hear the distant sound of drunken singing. The feast was well underway.

_I'm going to go to the feast Saphira. Are you ok to stay here by yourself?_ Eragon could feel through their link that she was missing Fírnen.

_I'll be fine Eragon, I'm a dragon. Go, enjoy yourself._

_I love you, Saphira. See you in the morning._

_I love you too, Little One._

He hugged her neck, then turned and jogged to the gates of the town. Following the meandering path around the hill, Eragon thought about his friends in Alagaesia. They seemed to be doing well, personally and in their roles as leaders. In particular he thought about Arya. He knew she had never wanted to be Queen, she only took the position because the rest of the elven population wanted her to. Considering that, Eragon thought she was coping well, but he was determined not to make her the Lead Rider when she clearly didn't want to be. His train of thought was interrupted when he reached the top of the hill. The doors to the keep were flung open, light and music spilling out. The feast was in full swing.

Walking through the doors, the first thing Eragon saw was Merry and Pippin dancing on a table, singing loudly, each with a flagon of mead. They were singing about a pub called The Green Dragon. Eragon laughed to himself, imagining Saphira arriving for a few barrels of mead. Spotting Gandalf and Aragorn, he made his way over to them.

"Eragon!" Gandalf called. "We've been looking for you. Where did you go?" he asked curiously.

"I was with Saphira, I had to take off her saddle and then I fell asleep in the sun," Eragon laughed.

Eomer joined them, handing a drink to Eragon. "Here you go lad, Rohan's finest brew."

Eragon took a sip – it was good. Not as strong as faelnirv or any of the dwarfish brews he had encountered, but it was as good as anything in Morn's Tavern.

Eragon relaxed once he had a drink, and the rest of the night blurred together. He remembered having more of the mead until his head felt light, and at some stage he stumbled across Gimli and Legolas having a drinking competition which, much to Gimli's disgust, he lost. Soon after, Gimli's head was on the table, great drunken snores emanating from him. Beside him, Legolads had become rather tipsy and was making bird noises. The hobbits kept going all night, dancing and singing to the entertainment of everyone else.

It was very late when they all went to bed, Eragon, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Merry, Pippin, Gandalf and some of the Rohirrim all crammed into a room. As soon as they lay down, they all fell into a deep sleep.

It was very early morning when Eragon heard a shout, startling him awake.

"Gandalf!" a voice screamed. Eragon was on his feet and had Brisingr halfway out of its sheathe before he even realised what was going on. Around him, he could see Aragorn and Legolas had reacted the same way.

It was Merry who had shouted, and he spoke again, "Pippin," he said, his voice trembling, finger pointing at a figure huddled on the ground.

Aragorn reached him in a few strides, Eragon and Legolas right behind him. Pippin was sitting crouched, holding the glass orb that Gandalf had taken from Isengard, staring into its depths and convulsing. Immediately, Aragorn grabbed it from him, but as soon as he touched it he started screaming as if he had been burned. It fell from his hands and rolled across the wooden floor, until someone threw a blanket over it. Gandalf.

He strode over to Pippin, turning him around so he could look him in the eye.

"What did you see?" he demanded. Pippin didn't answer, his eyes were glazed and he wasn't paying attention. Gandalf shook him. "Peregrine Took, what did you see?" he thundered. Gone was the kind hearted old man, Eragon had never seen this Gandalf before.

Pippin focused on Gandalf's face, scared. "He…he looked at me…with his _eye_. It was horrible."

"What did he say, Pippin? What did you see?" Gandalf urged.

"He didn't say anything," Pippin whispered, "he didn't have to. I saw death, and armies, and giant flying bats, and a white tree…" Pippin looked up at Gandalf, "but it was dead Gandalf. The tree was dead."

Gandalf was silent for a moment. He took Pippin's face in his hands and said, "Look at me."

He stared intently at him and then he let go, sitting back. "You are a fool, Peregrine Took, but an honest fool. There is no malice in you." Gandalf stood up, turning to Aragorn. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he said, "I only touched it for a second."

"Good," said Gandalf. "The white tree…we must talk to Theoden." He strode from the room in the direction of the keep, the others – except the hobbits – trailing behind.

**Hope you liked it. I know nothing major happened but its setting it up for something –I think you know what for;) Also I'm going to America in 2 weeks for the first time ever (so excited!) for a family holiday! Visiting San Francisco, Seattle, Orlando and NYC. Now we're going to be doing all of the touristy things but I was wondering if you guys know anywhere really cool that's not particularly well known (or even if it is – I don't mind)! In particular, restaurants, bars, cafes- foody places in general. Basically anything you think is worth doing/visiting.**

**Anyway, I love you all. Feedback is fab and reviews are my lifeblood so feel free to leave one – in fact please do! I'll have another chapter up next week. Stay tuned folks! Nym x**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN Thank you all so much for favouriting and following! Particular thanks to Ny'Kle and Korkman2 for the reviews on the last chapter**

**Chapter 12**

Although Gandalf wanted to see him immediately, the guards made them wait until Theoden woke to see him. It was a few hours after dawn when they were allowed in, and by that time Gandalf was in a very bad mood.

Aragorn had filled Eragon in while they were waiting. The white tree was a symbol of Minas Tirith, Gondor's greatest city. Gandalf thought its death meant that Sauron intended to attack it.

"If Minas Tirith falls," Aragorn said gravely, "we will lose this war. The evil in Mordor will spread like a disease, wiping out everything it touches. The Age of Men will end."

The great doors to the keep swung in on their hinges, silently beckoning them in. Gandalf strode forward, his white cloak flapping in the wind. The others followed suit.

"Theoden," Gandalf said cordially, sounding a lot calmer than he had outside, "we have much to discuss."

"Do we, Mithrandir. And what is it that we suddenly have to discuss?"

"Sauron intends to attack Minas Tirith."

Silence echoed around the hall, Theoden's advisers keeping their thoughts to themselves.

"How do you know this?" Theoden asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Young Pippin here," Gandalf said, grasping Pippin's shoulder and bringing him forward, "could not resist the temptation to look at the glass orb we took from Isengard. It is called a palantír. Saruman used it to communicate with Sauron. When Pippin looked into it, he saw images from Sauron's mind – perhaps Sauron thought he was Saruman. He saw a white tree burning. The white tree of Minas Tirith."

Theoden sat back in his chair, thinking. He stayed quiet for a few moments, then he looked up at Gandalf. "And?" he said.

Gandalf's face changed instantly. The pretence of being calm vanished, and fury was visible in every line of his wizened face. "And - " he started to stay furiously, but then Aragorn stepped forward, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"And, Your Grace," Aragorn continued in a much less offensive tone, "Gondor needs help. They cannot win this fight by themselves. They do not have enough supplies to withstand a siege or enough soldiers to win the battle. They will die without help. And if Gondor falls, there is nothing to stop that evil from coming to Rohan." He stepped right up to the foot of the throne. "On behalf of the people of Gondor – my people – I ask that the Men of Rohan fight with us."

Theoden looked down at him from above. He stood up and slowly walked down the steps, stopping in front of Aragorn. He grasped his forearm and said, "My friend, Rohan will not abandon you. We fight for Gondor!" he said, raising his voice so that the whole room could hear. There was a cheer, and Eragon could see Aragorn give a relieved smile.

"Eomer!" Theoden called, "send out riders to every village and holdfast. Gather their warriors and bring them to Edoras. I want every able-bodied rider to meet here in four days!"

Eomer nodded in understanding and left to carry out the orders.

"Theoden," Gandalf said, "I ride today. They need to know what is coming. When the beacons light, be ready to march." He turned to Aragorn and said something quietly in his ear, so low that Eragon couldn't make it out over all the chatter in the hall. When he finished speaking, Aragorn nodded, but he looked apprehensive.

"Now," Gandalf said, turning to the hobbits. "I will not be riding alone. Peregrine Took, you are coming with me to Minas Tirith."

"But why?" Pippin asked, upset.

"To keep you out of harm's way," Gandalf said sternly. He added in a kinder voice, "It's for your own safety, young hobbit. Now say your goodbyes, we are leaving."

_Eragon, we need to go with him. If the riders don't arrive in time, the city will fall anyway._

_I was thinking the same thing._

"Gandalf!" Eragon called after the retreating figure. He stopped and turned just as Eragon reached him. "Saphira and I would like to go with you to Minas Tirith. If the Rohirrim don't arrive in time, we can help until they do."

"You can come," Gandalf said after a pause, "but you need to stay out of sight until the battle starts. Sauron doesn't know that you are here in Middle Earth, and it would be to our advantage if we keep it that way." Gandalf gave him one last curious look, and left.

Eragon turned back to say goodbye to his companions. They were all grouped together in the middle of the hall. "Well Pippin," Eragon said, "it looks like we're going to Minas Tirith together."

"See Pippin?" Merry said, laughing. "You'll be fine. You have a dragon on your side! It's me you should be worrying about!"

"Merry, you'll be safe too," Aragorn said. "We'll make sure of it. Think of all the stories you can tell when you get back to The Green Dragon," he laughed. They quieted, knowing that they may never see each other again.

"Happy hunting, Gimli," Eragon said to the dwarf.

"And to you, Eragon," he said gruffly. "Save some orcs for us lot; don't let Saphira have all the fun."

"Legolas, may your arrows always find their mark."

"And yours," he replied.

"Stay safe, Eragon," Aragorn said. "Tell Saphira to mind herself."

"I will. You take care of yourself too. Your people will need you when this is all over." Aragorn nodded.

"Come on Pippin," Eragon said. "Gandalf wants to leave."

Pippin nodded. He turned to Merry.

"I'll see you in a couple of days, Pip. Take care," Merry said, giving him a hug. When he released him, there were a few tears streaking down Pippin's face.

"Come on Pippin," Eragon said gently. "We have to go. You'll see Merry again, I promise."

Pippin wiped his face and swallowed back the rest of his tears. He stood up straight, and said in a sad voice, "Ok, let's go."

Together Eragon and Pippin left the hall, and followed the wandering path halfway around the hill until they found the stables. Gandalf was already waiting for them on Shadowfax. Eragon lifted Pippin up and put in in front of Gandalf. As he stepped back, Gandalf handed him a small bag.

"Food," Gandalf said in answer to Eragon's querying face. "Fruit and vegetables. A small bit of dried meat. I couldn't get anything for Saphira but there are plenty of animals on the plains between here and Minas Tirith."

"Thanks you," Eragon said sincerely. "You go, we'll catch up. If you can't see us, just look up," he grinned.

"Happy flying, Eragon. Run Shadowfax! Run!" Gandalf urged

The magnificent horse reared up, and Pippin let out a terrified squeak. When all four hooves landed back on the ground he took off, streaking away and leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

Slinging the bag Gandalf had given him over his shoulder, Eragon jogged through the town until he reached the gates. Looking over to the hill where Saphira had stayed the night, Eragon was alarmed to see she wasn't there.

_Saphira? Saphira?! Where are you?_

_Relax Eragon. Take your own advice._

_What are you talking about? _Eragon asked, relieved.

_Look up!_

He turned his head to the sky to see a giant blue mass heading straight towards him, rows of white teeth flashing in the sun. It pulled up at the last minute,, and Saphira landed with a thump beside him.

_That wasn't funny, Saphira, _Eragon said as he tied the bag to the saddle.

_It was a little funny, _she said, smirking.

Eragon hopped on to her back and strapped himself in. _Well you'd better get going, that horse is pretty fast._

Saphira huffed. _I hope you're not suggesting that I can't catch a horse. _She flapped her wings, preparing to take to the air.

_Not at all- _Eragon started.

_Challenge accepted, _Saphira said devilishly.

"SAPHIRA!" Eragon yelled. She reared up on to her hind legs, and Eragon would have been thrown off if he hadn't strapped himself in.

_Let's see who's fastest now, shall we?_

_No Saphira, please, I'm sorry – _

_Too late, Eragon, _Saphira said gleefully, _Too late._

She leapt into the air, and for a moment they were suspended, not moving, Saphira flapping hard to try and keep them airborne. Suddenly they shot upwards, the she-dragon winning the battle with nature. They flew up at a near ninety degree angle, Saphira spiralling for extra effect and Eragon trying desperately not to scream. Finally, they levelled off, and Eragon inhaled deeply to try and calm his racing heart.

_Gah, Saphira, are you trying to make me sick?_

_Not at all, Little One. Just checking to see how you cope with my new aerial manoeuvres._

_Of course you are._

_Obviously._

_And? Did I meet your lofty expectations?_

_You did, Little One. You passed with flying colours. Now, I suppose we should catch up to the wizard._

Shadowfax was quick, even if Saphira wouldn't admit it, and it took them a few minutes of fast flying to spot them racing across the plains below. Once they had Gandalf in their sights, Saphira slowed her pace so that they stayed above him. Saphira flew as high as she could without Eragon passing out, so that to anyone below they would appear as nothing more than a bird.

Gandalf rode for two days and a night, only stopping so that he and Pippin could relieve themselves and so Shadowfax could get a drink.

Eragon and Saphira stopped more regularly. Saphira needed to eat before the upcoming battle and they both needed to conserve as much of their strength as possible. Heeding Gandalf's advice, Eragon made the pair become invisible when they approached the ground.

On the second night of their journey, Gandalf stopped below and set up a small camp. Several minutes later, Saphira landed gently beside them. Eragon took off her saddle and Saphira stretched out her wings, relieving tension in her muscles.

_I must hunt. This might be the last time I get the chance to eat before the battle._

_Be safe. _Eragon hugged her neck.

Saphira took off again, disappearing into the black night.

Eragon turned back to Gandalf and Pippin and sat close to the small fire they had made.

"We will reach Minas Tirith tomorrow," said Gandalf. "We must be wary. The steward of Gondor – Denethor – is a strange man. He is very clever, but he can be cruel also. And he is grief-ridden." Gandalf turned to Pippin. "He was Boromir's father." Pippin looked up, his eyes full of sadness. "He will not welcome us. We must tread very carefully, indeed."

There was silence in the camp for a long while; the hobbit, the wizard and the rider each lost in his own thoughts. Gandalf spoke up again.

"It would not be a good idea for Saphira to show herself until the battle starts. We do not know who is watching the city, and the soldiers of Gondor may panic and attack her. The city is built into the side of a mountain. There is a large spur of rock at the top that Saphira can hide behind if she can get up there unseen." There was silence for another few moments. "When we arrive, Pippin and I will go and speak with Lord Denethor. You may explore the city if you wish – it has many beauties if you look for them. Tomorrow evening I will meet you at the front gate, and we can discuss what to do."

Eragon nodded, knowing that Gandalf knew exactly what he was doing.

"I think," Gandalf said tiredly, "that it is time for bed. What do you say, Pippin?"

Pippin yawned loudly. Eragon and Gandalf both laughed. They each took out a blanket and curled up in front of the fire. Gandalf and Pippin fell into a deep sleep, snores echoing from their side of the camp. Eragon stayed awake, keeping watch in this strange land.

A few hours later, Saphira returned. She curled up and then opened her wing, inviting Eragon into her warm side.

_Sleep, Eragon._

He would've protested, but he had already fallen into his dreams.

It was mid-morning on the third day since they had left Edoras when they arrived at Minas Tirith. From above, it was spectacular. It was indeed built into a mountain, and it was divided in two by a piece of rock that looked like the bow of a ship. The city was made of white rock – much of it marble – and tiered in the same way Teirm was. Unlike Teirm though, Minas Tirith was not beside the sea – its walls were built to withstand armies and sieges, not raiding pirates. The walls were higher, stronger, bigger. Eragon hoped they were big enough.

Below them, Eragon watched as Gandalf rode through the barely-opened gates. He followed his progress from the sky, the white horse weaving its way through crowded streets and manned gates, eventually reaching the top of the mountain-city. Two figures dismounted the horse and entered a grand building, the door closing behind them.

_Impressive,_ said Eragon.

_Very. Ideal for defending, _Saphira commented.

_I agree. The gate is the only true weak point and even that looks strong. They have hope, yet._

_Let's investigate this hiding place Gandalf mentioned, shall we? I need to get this saddle off._

Even though they were invisible, and had been since the walls of the city had appeared on the horizon, Saphira took care when flying over the city. She didn't want any freak gusts of wind to alert the inhabitants to the fact that there was a giant flying lizard about to take up residence on top of their home.

Gently hovering over a large spur of rock above even the building Gandalf and Pippin had entered, Eragon and Saphira could see for leagues. To the west was Mordor – a barren and hostile land ringed by black mountains. That was where the enemy would be coming from. Closer than that was a small city that straddled a large river. Even from this distance Eragon could see it was in ruins.

Saphira landed with a bump on a piece of rock that was inaccessible unless you could fly – or could use magic. Eragon undid his straps and clambered off – somewhat ungracefully – and removed the invisibility spell he had placed on them. He took off Saphira's saddle and left it to the side, then went through his belongings. He took all the saddle-bags off the saddle – they would only slow Saphira down in battle. Removing an apple, he sat down beside Saphira and started munching it.

_I wish we had your armour, _Eragon said regretfully.

_Well there's no point wishing for something that will never change. Anyway, they've never fought a dragon before. The worst they can throw at me is arrows. Maybe something from a catapult. _

Eragon's frown deepened.

_I'm joking Eragon, lighten up! _Saphira exclaimed. _Catapults are slow – dragons aren't. I can dodge anything they throw at me. And your wards will protect me from arrows. I'll be fine. They won't. _She grinned toothily.

_Cocky, aren't we? _Eragon asked, smirking.

_Not cocky, confident, _Saphira answered. She turned her head away and started to clean her scales. _Anyway, what about __**your **__armour? You only have that flimsy leather. That couldn't stop a fork let alone a sword._

_Don't worry about me; none of them will get close enough to test it._

_Who's cocky now?_

They fell into a companionable silence, Saphira continuing to clean herself and Eragon sharpening his various daggers. As late afternoon rolled around, Eragon rose to his feet and walked over to the saddle-bags. He strapped on his leather doublet and secured Brisingr to his side. Removing another apple, he put it in his pocket and walked back over to Saphira.

_Will you be ok by yourself?_

_I'll be fine, Eragon. Go, enjoy the city._

He patted her side, and then spoke the words to make himself disappear from view. He climbed the rock face and when reached the top, he jumped. Before he hit the ground, he used the spell he had uttered so long ago in Helgrind to slow his descent, his feet gently setting down on the ground of the upper level of the city. Straightening up, Eragon strolled across the grassy lawns until he reached the gates that led to the city below. Walking past the unknowing guards, Eragon began his exploration.

He spent several hours wandering the city, gradually working his way down. It seemed as if the wealthy lived at the top, while those less well-off lived further down. That's not to say that these people were poor. They were all clothed, and looked as healthy and well-fed as could be expected in times of war.

Eragon had made himself visible again as soon as he found a secluded corner, and he noticed the strange looks he was getting. An armed man walking the streets, who was not a soldier of Gondor was bound to attract attention.

Eragon found the lower levels more interesting than those above, and he perused the various different shops and apothecaries while munching on his apple. At one point, the noise in the city got suddenly louder, all the townsfolk shouting and pointing at something far above. Turning to look, Eragon saw a beacon flaming, a call for help.

As the light started to fade, Eragon made his way towards the gates. As they came into view, he saw that Gandalf was already waiting for him, Pippin by his side.

"Eragon," Gandalf greeted, "I hope you enjoyed your day."

"I did. Minas Tirith is very interesting."

"That it is, that it is. Come, we can talk safely on the ramparts."

Gandalf led the way up the steps, Pippin at his heels. As Eragon reached the wall at the top, he asked, "How did your meeting with Lord Denethor go?"

"Bah," Gandalf said angrily, "He is a foolish, prideful man, and his judgement is clouded by grief. He will not defend the city. He thinks it is already lost."

"What?!" Eragon said aghast. "But they are his people! And all is not lost – this city was built to be defended. It will not fall easily."

"He will not listen to reason. He is too far gone to be of any help in this battle."

"Who will lead in his stead?"

"While he is alive he will not let anyone else lead, but his son Faramir is Captain of the Guard. The people will follow him. He is much loved here."

"Where is Faramir now?" Eragon asked.

"Osgiliath," Gandalf said, nodding at the city on the river. "It was a city like Minas Tirith for many, many years. In recent times it has been sacked by orcs from Mordor. Each time Gondor's soldiers drove them out, but the constant fighting caused its inhabitants to abandon the city. Gondor keeps a garrison of soldiers there to repel fresh attacks. If Osgiliath falls, Sauron will have a perfect base from which to attack Minas Tirith."

"So what do we do now?"

"Now," Gandalf replied slowly, "We wait. By now Rohan will have seen the beacon. Hopefully they have started their march. Tomorrow, we have to start to prepare the city as best we can. If Denethor will not take responsibility," Gandalf turned to face Eragon, "We will have to."

There was silence between the three as they stared out over the ramparts. Suddenly Pippin piped up, "I'm a member of the Tower Guard."

Gandalf laughed heartily, "You are indeed, Peregrine Took." At the confused look on Eragon's face, Gandalf said, "Our young hobbit swore to serve Lord Denethor as recompense for his son's death." Gandalf turned to look at Pippin. "I fear you do not understand what you have done."

Silence reigned again, lasting until night was well and truly upon them, the sky black. Without warning, in a valley between two of the distant mountains, a green beam of light shot high into the sky.

"Minas Morgul," Gandalf whispered.

_Saphira! Can you see this?_

She looked through Eragon's eyes, and was as wary as he was. "What is Minas Morgul?" Eragon asked, quietly.

"It was a sister city to Minas Tirith," Gandalf replied. "Now it is ruled by the Witch-King of Angmar, the Lord of the Nazgul. He commands Sauron's armies. "And that," Gandalf pointed at the light, his arm outstretched, "means that the city is emptying. War is coming sooner than we expected."

**AN Hope you liked it! I'm going away for 3 weeks so won't be updating until then unfortunately (there is a very small possibility I might get another chapter up at the weekend)! Pleaseeeeee leave a review! It really does make it so much easier to write! It only takes a couple of minutes to leave one but it makes my day!**

**Anywayyy, big battle coming up next! Who's excited? *raises hand* Love you all, Nym x**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favourited! I love you all! And special massive thanks to everyone who reviewed! *high five* Hope you like this chapter**

**Chapter 13**

Eragon spent the night curled up under Saphira's wing, thinking about the battle that was soon approaching. The orcs that would soon be trying to break down the gates of the city would not be looking for them to surrender. They wanted to slaughter every man, woman and child it contained, and they would not stop until they had done so. This battle would be no place for mercy, Eragon resolved. Kill or be killed.

The following morning found him with Gandalf, talking to the city guard. Pippin had taken up his duties with Lord Denethor, and was with him in the Citadel.

The guard they were speaking to was in charge in Faramir's absence. Gandalf was unsuccessfully trying to convince him to move the people living in the lower levels to some place higher up in the city, where they would be safer.

"Listen to me!" Gandalf said angrily. "These people are in danger! When the city is attacked, they will be the first to suffer. There will be arrows, rocks, fire raining down! They will be killed! They need to be moved to the higher levels! NOW!"

The guard stood up straighter, and said sniffily, "You do not give orders here, _Mithrandir_," he added derisively. "In Captain Faramir's absence, I am in charge of the safety of this city. Not you. Now leave before I arrest you," he said stonily.

"Bah!" Gandalf said, disgusted. "You would let you own people die to keep your pride intact."

The guard stood there, silent and unmoving.

Gandalf turned heel and walked away, furious. Eragon glared at the guard until he dropped his gaze, and then followed Gandalf.

Neither of them spoke as they walked through the city. The street they were walking on ended abruptly, opening out into the empty area in front of the gates.

"I will admit," Gandalf said slowly, his voice considerably calmer, "that while during my many long years I have been in many battles, none of them have been like the one we are facing. In this case, I think you, Eragon, are better suited to plan for this battle than I."

Eragon stood for a moment, absorbing what Gandalf had just said. "You want my advice?" he asked.

"I do," said Gandalf gravely.

Eragon stood back and looked at the city as a whole. "This city is perfect for defending; it is tiered – and each tier can be defended, so even if they break through one level we can keep defending the next one. It has very high walls, which means they will be reduced to using catapults and ladders, both of which we can deal with. Most importantly, it only has one gate. That means the city only has one true weak point, and even that is strong." Eragon turned to face the gate. "That is where they will focus their attack." He sighed. "Do you know how large the army is?"

"Sauron will empty Mordor. He intends to once and for all destroy Gondor." Gandalf stared at Eragon. "I would guess there to be…more than one hundred thousand orcs in Mordor," he said grimly.

_One hundred thousand! _Eragon thought. "We cannot defeat one hundred thousand orcs with the number of soldiers we have," Gandalf nodded grimly again, "but we do not have to. We only have to hold out until Rohan arrive."

They continued talking about battle preparations for several hours. As morning became afternoon, Eragon went to check on the catapults, while Gandalf had gone to talk to other members of the city guard.  
The catapults were all in good condition, strong, well-anchored and with a good supply of ammunition. As he was walking to inspect the last one, he wondered what Saphira was doing. That morning she had asked him to put the invisibility spell on her so she could fly if she wished. Suddenly, as if she knew he was thinking about her, she burst into his mind.

_ERAGON!_

_Saphira! What's wrong? _Eragon said desperately.

_Look over the ramparts! Towards the river!_

Eragon ran to the nearest battlement, trying to see what had got Saphira so worked up. Then he saw it. Riders. A couple of hundred of them. Fleeing Osgiliath. They looked like they were riding for their lives. Then he realised that they were.

Rising out of the ruined city came three black beasts, their wings flapping gracelessly as they chased the riders across the plains.

Eragon searched with his mind until he found who he was looking for.

_Gandalf! Can you see this?_

_Yes, _came the reply after a few seconds.

_Saphira and I can fly out and meet them._

_NO! Stay here. Do not reveal yourselves yet. I will take care of this._

Eragon lost the connection with Gandalf, and as he did he saw a white horse streak out of the gates, heading towards the oncoming riders.

_What is he doing? _Eragon cried. _He'll be killed!_

_Give him some credit Eragon, _Saphira said, but even she sounded worried. _He knows more than you think._

_What's happening? I can't see! They're too far away!_

_Let me show you._

Eragon's vision disappeared for a moment. When it returned, everything was tinted blue, but he could see in much greater detail. He could make out a figure sitting atop each flying beast, which had now caught up to the fleeing riders. They were terrorising the horses, picking them up in their claws and mouths and then flinging them at the retreating riders. The beasts suddenly reared back, screeching. A bright light was shining at them, a light, Eragon saw through Saphira's eyes, that was coming from Gandalf's staff. The great, flying bats wheeled away, retreating back to Osgiliath.

Gandalf joined the head of the column of riders racing towards Minas Tirith. Seeing that they were no longer under threat, Eragon left the rampart and ran through the city, arriving at the gates just as they opened. He spotted Pippin standing at the edge of the courtyard and carefully made his way over to him as the riders thundered through the open gate. They stood side by side, watching as the last of the riders entered the courtyard and the gates thudded shut.

Eragon scanned the mass of bodies in front of him, searching for a flash of white. He was startled by a voice behind him.

"So now you have seen the Nazgul," Gandalf said grimly.

Eragon whirled around, wondering how he had missed the wizard. "Aye," he replied. "The creatures they ride upon seem…formidable."

"They are, but they do not have minds of their own. They are controlled completely by their riders."

"The Nazgul."

"The Nazgul," Gandalf confirmed. "They are Sauron's most trusted servants. They have no mercy, no conscience, no soul. They are evil. Their blades were forged in dark magic. If it touches your skin, the spot will never heal fully, if at all."

There was silence between them for a few moments, until Pippin spoke up.

"Gandalf, what happened in Osgiliath?"

Gandalf looked down at Pippin. "I have an idea, dear hobbit, but I do not know exactly."

Gandalf looked up, his eyes searching for someone in the crowd. "Faramir!" he called.

Eragon followed Gandalf's line of sight, and saw a man with brown sandy hair look over at them. He turned back to the man he was speaking with and gave a final order. Receiving a nod of affirmation from the soldier, Faramir steered his horse toward them and trotted over.

Stopping a few feet away from them, Eragon got a proper look at the Captain of the Guard. He was holding his helmet under his left arm, the reins in his right hand. His armour was smeared with dirt and blood, the metal scraped and dented. There was a cut down the side of his face and he was holding himself rather stiffly in the saddle.

"Mithrandir," Faramir said. Eragon was surprised. His voice sounded young – it didn't match the haunted look in his eyes.

"I thank you for coming to our aid," said Faramir gratefully. "I fear that without you, none of us would have returned today."

"Indeed," Gandalf said gravely. "What happened, Faramir?"

Faramir seemed to slump in the saddle. "The city has fallen. The orcs used the fog to their advantage and a fighting force crossed the river during the night. We held them off, but more kept coming. They drove us back to the edge of the city and tried to surround us. I gave the order to mount and break cover. And then the Nazgul came," he shuddered. He recovered quickly and spoke in a measured voice. "Osgiliath is lost, Gandalf. Orcs are crossing the river in their thousands, led by the King of the Nazgul."

Faramir looked down at the ground and sighed. Eragon saw him wince and shift his position, trying to alleviate the pain in his back.

"Faramir," Gandalf said, interrupting Eragon's thoughts. The Captain looked up. "I would like to introduce my companions. This is Eragon Bromsson. He is a traveller from another land, and an accomplished warrior."

Faramir studied him curiously. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Eragon Bromsson," he said.

"And I, yours," Eragon replied.

"And this," Gandalf said impatiently, "Is Peregrine Took of the Shire." Gandalf gestured for Pippin to step forward.

As Faramir's eyes landed on the hobbit, they widened in disbelief. He glanced to Gandalf, and then back at Pippin. "A Halfling," he muttered.

Gandalf – who had been studying Faramir's face – asked, "This is not the first Halfling to cross your path?"

Faramir slowly shook his head.

"Frodo!" Pippin cried. "Sam!"

"Yes," Faramir said, his eyes not leaving Pippin's face. "Those were their names."

"When Faramir? When did you see them?" Gandalf asked, eyes stormy.

"A week past. I found them on one of our trails in Ithilien. We brought them here, to Osgiliath and they took the tunnels out of the city. But Gandalf," Faramir's voice became serious, and it was tinted with something Eragon could not identify. "They were led by a creature. A small thing it was. Skinny. Sneaky. Full of hatred and malice."

"Gollum," Gandalf said in a low voice.

"Yes."

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Where were they planning to go?"

Faramir took a breath. "The Morgul Vale," he said grimly.

Gandalf inhaled sharply, his face going pale. "But that – " he started.

"I know," Faramir interrupted. "I talked to them, tried to get them to change their minds, but they said any other path would take too long to complete their task. And they are right."

Eragon watched the exchange with trepidation. Clearly something about the hobbits' chosen route was not good.

Faramir sighed. "I must return to my men. There are many wounded and the horses need to be taken care of. Then I must speak with my father."

Eragon thought quickly and came to a decision. "I would like to help, Lord Faramir, if you will allow me. I am an experienced healer, and I have handled many horses in my time." That last part was not completely true. Eragon had really only handled Birka – the old farm horse, and Cadoc and Snowfire. But he could communicate with the horses in ways that no other man could.

Faramir studied him for a moment, and said, "Your help would be most welcome, Eragon. We are rather short on healers these days. And I am no Lord. Faramir will do." Eragon nodded.

"Well," Gandalf said, "I must be off. I need to think. And Pippin here has duties to attend to, do you not?" he asked, looking down at the hobbit.

"Yes," Pippin answered. At Faramir's inquiring gaze, he responded, "Lord Denethor made me a Tower Guard.

"Did he?" Faramir laughed. "I thank you for serving Gondor." He sobered. "Be careful, Master Hobbit." With that he turned away, walking towards his men.

Eragon faced Gandalf and Pippin. "Well, that was interesting," he smiled wryly.

"Humph!" Gandalf snorted.

"How about we meet here at the same time tomorrow? It looks like we're all busy for the rest of today."

"Yes, yes," Gandalf said impatiently. "Now away with you, Eragon. You have duties to attend to as well."

Eragon grinned and loped away, quickly catching up with Faramir. He stood silently at the Captain's side while he gave out orders to the men.

"If you are injured," he said loudly, drawing the attention of all the soldiers, "Go to the healers. If you are not injured, help someone who is. Leave the horses here in the courtyard. Once you are finished your tasks, there will be a meal waiting for you in the hall. You," he said, pointing to a group of four, uninjured men, "Start bringing the horses up to the stables. Make sure they are fed and watered."

"Yes sir," they chorused back.

"Beric, Olsun, Jared, Donal, Gart. Report."

As the five men he had called started making their way over, Faramir dismounted and turned to Eragon. "I do not know you. You seem strange to me. I can see you are powerful, and that should worry me, but it doesn't. Gandalf trusts you, so I trust you. The healers are higher up in the city. Just follow those men," he said, pointing. "I beg you to do what you can, Eragon. We have many injured and too few healers, and I will need every last man in Minas Tirith before too long. The worst is yet to come." Faramir's head dropped.

"Hope is not lost, Faramir," Eragon said. He put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Things are not as bad as they seem." He gave him a small smile and turned quickly, striding after the injured soldiers.

As he stood in the entrance to the healers' building, Eragon could only sense despair. Resolving to change that, he stepped inside. He had to stop for a moment and let his eyes adjust to the dim room. The windows were covered with drapes, casting a gloomy blanket of hopelessness across those inside. Looking around, Eragon searched for someone in charge. Spotting a figure bent over a bed, he made his way over. As he walked, he noticed that while all the beds were full, only a few patients were being attended to.

He came to a halt beside the healer. "Excuse me," he said. The healer slowly stood up and faced him. She reminded him of Aunt Marian, Eragon mused, or at least, what he imagined his aunt would have looked like if she had lived to be older.

"Are you injured, my boy?" she asked in a motherly tone. "Come, let's get you a bed."

"No, no. I'm not injured." She stopped her fussing and looked curiously at him. "Captain Faramir sent me."

She straightened up, her voice inquisitive. "And why would he do that if you aren't injured?"

"I'm a healer," Eragon explained. "He asked me to help you in any way I can."

The healer – Eragon did not yet know her name – stepped back to get a proper look at him. Hands on hips, she looked him up and down, circling him. Eragon submitted himself to her wordless inspection, knowing she only wanted the best for her patients.

She came to a stop in front of him. "What is your name?" she asked kindly.

"Eragon, ma'am."

"Eragon…unusual name. And what age are you, Eragon?"

He had to think about that one. He had never been particularly good about remembering when his birthday was, but with the war and then all the travelling, he had completely lost track.

_Saphira? A little help please._

_You are nearly 20, Eragon. Nineteen years and nine months, to be exact. Honestly, you should remember these things._

_I love you, Saphira._

_Hmm._

"I am nearly twenty, ma'am."

"Very young for a healer," she said, looking at him intently.

Eragon had to think. "Yes," he answered slowly. "But I had many great teachers, and a lot of practise. And I am not…ah…a conventional healer, I suppose you could say."

"What do you mean?"

Eragon answered a question with a question. "What is your name?"

"Jenny," she said suspiciously.

"Well Jenny, could you tell me what is wrong with this man?" Eragon asked, pointing at the man she had been treating.

"He was shot with a poisoned arrow. The wound is infected, he has a high fever and the poison is spreading faster than we can stop it." Eragon could see that she really did care for her patients, but she was wary as to where his line of questioning was headed.

_I trust her, _Eragon decided. "You asked who I am. In some ways, I am like Gandalf, but I am not from this land. There, I was a warrior, a healer, a leader, a friend."

"Wizard," she whispered.

"Magician," Eragon corrected with a smile. He allowed a few blue sparks to dance across his palm and Jenny gasped. "This man," he continued, "is in pain. You and I both know that nobody here can save him. The most you can really do for him, is allow him to die painlessly." She looked down at the ground. "I can save him," Eragon said. Her head came up, and she slowly nodded.

Eragon stepped up to the man's bedside. He sent his consciousness into his body, trying to find the source of the poison. He traced it back to the wound in the man's stomach. A tiny sliver of the arrowhead still remained embedded in his skin, causing both the infection and keeping the source of the poison alive. Eragon removed the piece of arrow, and then drew all the poison out of the man's body. It trickled out of the wound until eventually there was a pebble-sized sphere of dark, coalescing black sludge pulsating in the dim light. Eragon placed it in a metal bowl at the bedside. He did the same thing for the infection, removing all the pus and disposing of it. Once the infection was removed, the fever broke. Eragon cleaned out the man's body one last time and sealed up the wound. Finished, he opened his eyes to find Jenny staring at him with her mouth open. Wordlessly, she checked the man's temperature, not at all surprised to find it had gone down. "That was incredible," she murmured.

Eragon smiled at her. "There are many injured in here. We'd better hurry up."

So for hours Eragon healed and healed. Jenny brought him to those with the most serious wounds first. There were many more like the first man he had healed, and there were many who had limbs missing. As the day wore on, he came to those who had broken limbs and small infections. All were left in awe after Eragon had healed them. The last man Eragon healed had had his hand crushed by a mace.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you! Thank you!" he said.

"You are welcome, soldier," Eragon replied, "but I am not a sir. I am Eragon."

Finally, he was finished. The ward was empty apart from the different healers who had come to watch him work.

"Thank you, Eragon," Jenny said. "You saved many lives today."

"There's no need to thank me. I did what anyone would have done. Now," he said, addressing all the gathered healers, "I suggest you get some rest. This ward won't be empty for long." He smiled sadly, and he saw his expression echoed among those around him. He turned to go, when suddenly a thought popped into his head. "Actually, do you have any apples?" A bag of apples was produced, and Eragon said goodbye again and left.

Nearly dark now, Eragon cut the apples into pieces as he walked through the city. Arriving at the courtyard, Eragon saw forty tired horses still standing, with the four soldiers he had seen earlier preparing to bring some more up to the stables.

"Halt!" he shouted to them. They turned, and Eragon could see as he jogged over to them that they were in desperate need of food and sleep. "I'll take care of the rest," he said to them. "Go and eat."

"Are you sure?" one of the soldiers asked. His friend elbowed him and Eragon had to smother a laugh.

"I'm sure. Go."

"Thank you, sir!" Eragon was didn't bother to correct him.

Walking over to the remaining horses, Eragon could sense that they were tired too. He pulled out his bag of chopped apple and went along the line, feeding each horse as he did so. Now that they trusted him, he broadcast his thoughts to them.

_Follow, _he imprinted on them. He sent them an image of himself, followed by images of a nice warm stable, fresh hay and water. He started walking and after a few steps he turned his head – they were following like lambs.

Walking through the streets, Eragon followed the scent of horse to find the stables. He got some very strange glances from the people of Minas Tirith as he walked; a foreign warrior who was friends with Gandalf leading a line of forty timid war horses. Strange indeed.

They finally reached the stables, the horses placidly filing into their stalls. Eragon filled up the feed and water troughs for each stall first and then went around individually, taking the saddle and tack off each horse. When he was finished, he distributed the final bits of apple and did a quick check on the horses brought up previously. Happy that they were all content, he left.

Making his way back to Saphira, Eragon checked the energy-filled gem he had taken from Helm's Deep. Earlier, while healing the injured, he had drawn energy from it to supplement his own, and he feared he had used a lot of it. To his delight and surprise, he had barely scratched the surface! It was incredible!

It was late night when Eragon snuggled into Saphira's side. He had removed the invisibility charm on her, and when she asked why, he simply said, _I want to see my great blue dragon._ She had hummed in satisfaction at that.

Now, Eragon fell asleep knowing that war was on their doorstep.

**AN I know I know, no battle… sorry. But hey, I wanted to give the battle its own chapter – for it shall be epic (I hope). Anyway, my goal for this chapter is to get eight reviews. Why eight? Cause then I hit FIFTY reviews! So pleaseee do it! For me? I love you more than Saphira loves beer xoxo Nym**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN Thank you so much! You got me to 50 reviews! Here's the battle! (mildly gory)**

**Chapter 14**

Eragon dreamt he was in Ellesmera, walking through the great forest, carefree, with a smile on his face and joy in his heart. Slowly, a persistent buzzing filled his head. He pushed it away, and for a minute, all was calm. The buzzing returned, stronger and louder. Eragon shook his head, trying to get rid of it. Again, it disappeared.

There was a sharp pain in the back of his skull, like someone had poked him with a stick. Again. Again. Poke. Poke. Poke.

_Wake up… _he heard faintly. _Eragon… wake up…ERAGON!_

He shot up, fully awake, expecting someone to be attacking him. Instead, he found a bright blue, cerulean eye staring into his face.

_Saphira, did you wake me up?_

_Yes._

_Why? _He asked, exasperated.

_Because, Gandalf wants to talk to you. Something is happening in the city and he couldn't get through your barriers while you were asleep._

Eragon jumped up, gathering his belongings even as he searched for the wizard's mind.

_Gandalf! Saphira said you wished to talk to me._

_Yes. Come as quick as you can. Meet me at the front gates._

_Okay, _Eragon said, as he belted Brisingr to his side. He gave Saphira a kiss on the snout and cast the invisibility charm over them both. He continued the conversation with Gandalf as he hurried through the city.

_What's going on?_

_Faramir is preparing to leave the city. Denethor ordered him to retake Osgiliath._

_What?! _exclaimed Eragon, aghast. _That's madness! They'll be slaughtered before they get near the city!_

_Denethor is mad. _Eragon could feel the wizard's anger through the connection. _He is trying to manipulate his son – for what reason I do not know. This can only end in death._

Eragon was running now, trying to reach the gates before Faramir did. He was taking the side streets, trying to avoid the crowds that had gathered on the main avenue. He skidded into the courtyard just as Faramir reached the end of the avenue. He quickly jogged over to Gandalf and took in his surroundings.

Lining the courtyard and avenue were women and children, many holding flowers and all with tears streaking down their faces. Taking in the procession behind Faramir, Eragon saw hundreds of soldiers, all of them mounted and all of them wearing their finest armour. Every one of them had a look of utter despair upon their faces, including their Captain. They were riding to their deaths – and every person in Minas Tirith knew it.

"Faramir," Gandalf appealed to the young man, "Do not do this. Do not throw away your life so easily."

"I must," the Captain replied gravely, without hope. "I must protect these people."

Anger filled Eragon. Anger which he had not felt for a long, long time. He stepped away from Gandalf's side and into Faramir's path, blocking his way to the gate.

"Stop," he commanded. Faramir ignored him. Eragon accessed that part of his mind where he held his magic. He let it wash over his body, infusing him with power and energy. "Stop," he said, the word full of power and command, of knowledge and wisdom, his magic projecting his voice for all to hear.

The horses stopped in their tracks, and not one person in the courtyard dared to breathe too loudly.

"What are you doing, Faramir? Why are you doing this?"

"The Lord Denethor – " he started.

"The Lord Denethor is mad, Faramir. I am sorry. Your father is mad. The only person in charge here is you. You are making this decision. You are making the decision to throw away your life, to throw away your men's lives. If you ride out that gate, none of you will return. You know that. I know that. Your men know that. You will not get close enough to swing a sword. They will not give you the chance. You will be cut down by arrows like birds in flight."

He watched Faramir's face. It was pained. Faramir knew Eragon was right, had known it himself before he got up on his horse.

"We will be slaughtered if we do nothing."

"I never said we wouldn't do anything. But if you ride out there, you throw away any hope of winning this battle. You will doom your people."

Faramir looked Eragon in the eyes, and Eragon could see that he knew the truth.

"You think there is no hope for us. There is. Rohan is coming." A murmur went around the people lining the courtyard. "We do not have to defeat the orcs outside these gates; we merely have to hold them off until help arrives. And that we can do. Minas Tirith is a fortress. It was built to be defended."

There was silence in the courtyard for several moments, until Faramir said, "What would you have me do?"

Eragon resisted the temptation to breathe a sigh of relief. "Return the horses to the stables – but leave them tacked; we might need them later. We must move all these people," Eragon gestured to everyone in the courtyard, "to the higher levels. They are in too much danger here. After that – "

_Eragon, _Saphira interrupted, _Look._

She showed him what she was seeing. She had taken flight while they were talking to get a better view of the two cities. Eragon could see through her eyes the movement in Osgiliath. Platoons of orcs were still crossing the river, and he could see completed instruments of war and siege engines scattered on the plains around the ruins.

_They are preparing to march, _Eragon said, _and soon. They will be here by evening._

_I agree, Little One. You had better get those soldiers moving._

The whole conversation took less than a second, and Eragon didn't think anyone noticed his momentary lapse.

" – we must move quickly. The orcs will be here by evening."

"Beric, Olsun, Jared, Donal, Gart!" Faramir called. The five men Eragon had seen earlier trotted up.

"My second-in-commands," Faramir informed Eragon. Turning back to the men he had called, he said, "Beric, Olsun, get your units to dismount and give their horses to a soldier from one of their units," he pointed at the other three commanders. "Then start moving people into the fifth and sixth levels. I want every level below that to be empty. The people are allowed to bring food and some clothes – but not much. And I don't want to hear complaints from those higher up – just get it done." Turning to Jared, Donal and Gart, he said, "Your units will bring the horses to the stables. You heard Eragon – keep their tack on. Give them food and water. When that's done, Jared, I want your unit to help move the citizens. Donal and Gart, report back here with your units. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," they replied together.

"Good. Dismissed."

Faramir turned back around to Gandalf and Eragon, and the planning began.

By early afternoon, the lower city was empty except for the soldiers. Eragon had set many of them to work, blocking off the back streets.

"If they break through," he explained, "they'll go the way we want them to. Otherwise they could flank us." In the same way, they had formed walls on the inside of the main gate, so that any orcs who broke through would be channelled in a certain direction. "It'll pack them all together," Eragon said. "Their numbers will slow them down, and our archers," he gestured to either side of the courtyard, "will cut them down."

The gates at the entrance to each level were double and triple-checked, and reinforced if they needed it. Pots of pitch and tar were placed above each gate, just waiting to be heated. Catapults were given every available piece of rock and rubble. Every arrow in the city was gathered and checked. Most were given to the archers on the outer walls and in the courtyard, but quivers were also left on the roofs of buildings at each level, in case of a retreat.

By late afternoon, all possible preparations were completed, and the soldiers stood in the courtyard in front of Eragon, Faramir, and Gandalf.

"Soldiers of Gondor!" Faramir shouted. "The time has come to defend what is ours! To protect our people! Our families! Our homes!"

The soldiers cheered back at him, banging their swords against their shields.

"That army," he said, pointing behind him, "Have no mercy! They have come for one reason! To destroy this city! They will kill your wives, your children, destroy your homes!" He paused, looking around at his men. "But we will not let them!" he shouted, his voice growing both in volume and rage. His men responded, becoming louder and more worked up.

"We are MEN! We will not stop! We will NOT give up! We will fight until there is no breath left in our bodies, until we do not have the strength to lift a sword! Until every last orc – " he spat on the ground, " – is dead!"

The stone under Eragon's feet was vibrating with the noise coming from Faramir's men.

"For Gondor!" he bellowed.

"FOR GONDOR!" they roared back at him.

"TO YOUR POSITIONS!"

They turned and marched away, ready for battle.

"Quite a speech," Gandalf said to Eragon.

"Indeed. His men will follow him to the end."

"Many of them will." There was a pause. "Come. Let us go to the walls."

Walking up the steps beside Gandalf, Eragon ran his hands down the armour he had been given. Faramir had found him a chainmail shirt, a helmet, greaves and braces. While Eragon was insistent that he would have no need of the armour, he had given in for Saphira's sake. She felt much more comfortable when Eragon had physical protection.

_Yes, I do. You never know when a ward will fail._

_I know, Saphira. How are your scales?_

_Spotless, _she relied smugly. Saphira had spent the last few hours preening and cleaning.

_Dragons are so vain, _Eragon chuckled.

_We are allowed to be vain. We are the most beautiful creatures in the land._

_And you are the most beautiful of them all._

_I love you, Little One._

_I love you too, Saphira._

Eragon's vision allowed him to see the approaching army well before anyone else in Minas Tirith, but as the day wore on the soldiers around him grew nervous as their foe came into view. A few hours before sunset, the enemy stopped just out of reach of their catapults.

Saphira, flying high up above, showed Eragon what she could see – and it didn't improve his mood. The army was the width of the mountain-city, and it stretched on and on, filling half the plain between Minas Tirith and Osgiliath. One hundred thousand at least. Eragon could make out clearly now the hundreds of siege engines they had brought with them – catapults, towers and ladders. Try as he might, Eragon couldn't pick out a battering ram – even though he knew they _had _to have brought one…

In these last few moments before the battle began, Eragon just _wished _he was able to use the spell Oromis had taught him so long ago. He could wipe out the entire army without breaking a sweat. But even that spell had its limitations. It required intimate knowledge of the anatomy of the being he was trying to end – whether this knowledge was gained from personal experience or it was passed on by someone else, it didn't matter. Eragon knew how to kill orcs with his sword, but he lacked the time to study one in the detail he would need to have to perform the spell.

A horn sounded ahead of them, and the army moved off, slowly lumbering towards the city. Eragon did a quick check on his wards. He had placed the usual ones on himself and Saphira, but he had also placed protections on Gandalf, Faramir and Pippin – even though it was unlikely that the little hobbit would be doing any fighting – as well as some enchantments on the gate and catapults.

_Eragon, _Umaroth said, startling the young Rider, _We will sustain your wards, draw energy for your spells from the gem._

_Yes, Master, _Eragon agreed. He silently berated himself. He hadn't forgotten that the Eldunarí were with him, but he had forgotten to include them when making decisions.

_Do not question yourself Eragon, _Umaroth chided. _If you had needed our advice, we would have given it. But you have not. We agree with every choice you have made. Now concentrate. War is upon you._

Eragon noted the position of the orc army in front of him. They had moved into range of the catapults, but not yet of the archers. A few more moments.

"Nock!" Eragon said, his voice magically projected. He was commanding the soldiers manning the catapults as well as the archers.

The army crept closer.

"Draw!"

They were now in range.

_Ready, Saphira?_

_I am always ready, Eragon._

_For Alagaesia, _he said softly. She growled in his mind.

"FIRE!"

A thousand arrows leapt into the sky, cutting through the air, searching for a place to find their mark. As they reached the apex of their flight, for a moment, time seemed to slow, the arrows hanging gracefully against a cloudless backdrop. Then the world sped up again, and the arrows began their deadly descent.

"Thrysta," Eragon whispered at the last moment. The push of air gave the arrows enough momentum to plunge through the crude armour of the orcs, and they nearly all found their mark. Hundreds of orcs dropped to the ground, stone dead, and a cheer went up from the men on the wall. Eragon watched as the boulders thrown from the catapults smashed into the orcs below and then kept rolling, crushing tens more.

Under Saphira's direction from the skies above, they repeated this for an hour or so, killing a couple of thousand of the enemy. As dusk was falling, Saphira sent Eragon a mental picture of enemy catapults, which were now within range of the city. Also approaching were towers used for accessing the walls. Even as he watched, Eragon looked on in horror as the catapults fired simultaneously.

Twenty or so huge boulders were hurtling towards the city. If they hit, they would kill many soldiers and cause serious damage. Making his mind up quickly, Eragon dipped into the energy held within the gem and barked, "Jierda!"

One of the more central boulders shattered into smaller pieces.

"Thrysta," Eragon said. The small pieces hurtled in different directions, each now on course to smash into one of the ever-approaching boulders. Eragon kept feeding the small pieces energy, willing them to gain the momentum they needed. Finally, they collided.

One by one, the boulders exploded. As the last one broke apart, Eragon once again said, "Thrysta." Using small pushes of air, he changed the previous course of the boulders. They whizzed by in different directions, some going over the city and some going around it. Slowly, they arced back, gaining speed.

"Gánga," Eragon whispered. "Gánga, gánga!"

The rocks hurtled back the way they came, many smashing orc heads, but most destined for the catapults.

Eragon watched in satisfaction as the wooden catapults were ripped to shreds, like a leaf in a storm. Many of the wooden towers had been destroyed too.

As soon as the rocks had reached and destroyed the catapults, Eragon cut off the energy to them. They dropped, raining death on those below and killing more of the enemy.

_Well done, Little One. I am proud of you. But you must be careful. That used a lot of energy._

She was right, as the gem had been slightly drained by his endeavour.

_I will, Saphira. But at least the catapults are no longer a threat._

Eragon looked around him, only to find the soldiers – and Gandalf – staring at him in awe.

"Did I say stop firing?" Eragon yelled. "NO! Nock! Draw! Fire!" They quickly turned back and resumed their defence of the city.

Many of the wooden towers Eragon had seen were destroyed along with the catapults, but several hundred still remained. Most were still out of reach of his magic, but some had crept closer to the walls.

Saphira allowed him to see what he could not. The front, top and sides were protected from arrows, but the back was open. It was a wooden tower on wheels, and it was pushed by what looked like a giant orc. A troll, Gandalf informed him. Trolls, Gandalf said, were slow and stupid, but very dangerous. They had thick skulls and strong necks, but were easy to injure and confuse.

The tower had multiple levels, with ladders linking each level and another reaching the ground. If the tower reached the wall, an endless number of orcs could clamber up and over it.

_So, _Eragon concluded, _the towers are not allowed to reach the wall. Easy peasy, _he added sarcastically.

Night finally came, and so did the dragon.

Eragon and Saphira had agreed beforehand that until it was dark, Saphira would remain a look-out. When night fell, she would attack the orcs while still remaining invisible. Hopefully this would terrify them a bit.

And it did.

The first time the orcs encountered the unknown terror, a tower was seemingly ripped in half by nothing. Again and again, towers crumbled before their eyes, the orcs inside screaming as they were crushed to death. At other times, a row of armoured orcs would go flying into the sky, only to fall lifeless to the ground, their bodies crumpled. It seemed that those around the edge were most at risk, and this occasionally caused a stampede to get away from the _thing_.

Saphira enjoyed destroying her enemy, and she also enjoyed the terror she was causing them, so she decided to stay silent and keep her flames inside her belly – for the moment.

The enemy was close enough now to fire arrows over the wall, so the defenders had to alternate between holding their shields over their heads and firing back. So far, a few soldiers had been injured, but no one had been killed.

_Yet_, Eragon thought darkly.

He noted that Saphira had taken care of many of the towers, but she couldn't get too close to the city or she risked being hit by friendly fire from the catapults and the archers. That left about forty towers for him to deal with.

He couldn't set them on fire – that much Eragon found out very quickly. The outer wood must have some kind of fireproof coating on it. That left the only weak points as the wheels and the trolls.

He reached out to the nearest tower and searched for the mind of the ogre. He found it, but was shocked. The ogre's mind was empty. Completely empty. It was a mindless shell of a creature. Eragon had intended to take control of the troll and somehow sabotage the tower, but he couldn't do that if the troll had no mind to control. It was like a puppet, but Eragon couldn't find its strings.

That left the wheels. To completely disable the towers he'd have to break two wheels on each. Eighty wheels. Too many.

Looking around him, Eragon called to the nearest soldier.

"Sir?" he asked, panting slightly. Eragon grimaced internally.

"I need you to go up to the soldiers operating the catapults. Tell them to aim at the towers approaching from the north-west. All of the catapults. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Go."

Eragon turned back to the task at hand. Starting with the nearest tower to him, he probed the wheels. They were strong, he'd give them that. He would expel a lot of energy over the next few hours trying to break the rim of the wheels. So, he decided, he wouldn't break the rims. He'd break the spokes.

With the spokes broken, the wheels would lose most of their support, and then (hopefully), the weight of the tower would crush the unsupported rims. To work properly though, he had to make sure that he broke the spokes on both wheels at the same time. This would ensure that the weight fell evenly.

_Well, _Eragon thought, _here goes nothing._

"Jierda du rothsaí!" he cried. With two snaps, one after the other, Eragon heard the wooden spokes splinter into pieces. This was followed by two dull crunches as first the front right wheel collapsed, followed by the back right. The tower swayed, and finally stilled, leaning precariously. Just for good measure, Eragon shot the troll through the eye as it lumbered out from behind the abandoned tower.

The next four towers Eragon attacked ended up in much the same way, but on his next attempt, the wheels cracked at exactly the same time, and the tower toppled sideways, crushing many orcs beneath it as well as those inside.

Technique perfected, Eragon had steadily decimated eighteen towers, and was making short work of the nineteenth when he suddenly heard screaming and swords clashing.

Looking to his left, he saw a tower against the wall with orcs swarming out of it, two more towers about to join it.

Setting off at a sprint, he contacted his dragon.

_Saphira, can you finish these off? _he asked, sending her a picture of the towers he hadn't reached yet.

_Of course. Go. And be careful._

It only took him a few seconds to cross the distance to the soldiers fighting to the orcs. Just before he entered the fray, he spotted Gandalf and Faramir in the midst of the fight.

He leaped, clearing a row of fighting soldiers and drawing his sword mid-air. He swung Brisingr viciously, and as his feet hit the ground, so did several orc heads, the bodies following with a dull _thump_.

Eragon fought tirelessly, slicing through enemies all around him. He was soaked in orc blood, the black stuff obscuring his vision and causing him to slip more than once. Finally, he caught a breather. Or at least, he thought he had. In fact, he was surrounded on every side. A ring of orcs four deep had caged him in. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Faramir and Gandalf still fighting, trying to get to him. He raised his sword, preparing for a long, bloody fight, when suddenly a deafening roar silenced the battlefield.

Eragon took advantage of the orcs' confusion, many of whom had looked out over the palisade. With speed only an elf could match, he had beheaded half of them and was in the process of beheading the other half before the orcs realised what was happening. Within three seconds, Eragon was standing at the centre of more than fifty headless bodies.

_It had been a bloody fight, _he thought humourlessly, _just not very long._

_Thanks, Saphira, _he said gratefully.

_You are welcome, Little One._

He wiped his brow and surveyed the scene. The first tower to land against the wall was still standing, only now, instead of streaming out of the tower, the orcs were standing in the entrance way, unwilling to go any further. They weren't particularly eager to join their headless comrades on the ground.

Quickly glancing around him, Eragon saw that there were still plenty of archers lining the inner walls of the courtyard.

"ARCHERS!" he bellowed to draw their attention. Once he had it, he pointed at the tower with his sword.

"NOCK!" Eragon gave the orcs a feral smile.

"DRAW!" He bared his teeth at them, trying to provoke them to run out. They did.

"FIRE!" Arrows whizzed past him even as he ran, felling orcs either side.

"FIRE AT WILL!" Eragon bellowed again. He ran straight into the tower and brought Brisingr around in a deadly slash, halving the enemies surrounding him. He kicked the ladder down the hole, preventing any more orcs from clambering up.

"Brisingr," he whispered. A ball of blue flame appeared in his palm. He fed it energy until it was twice the size of his head and white-hot. "Thrysta," he said. The fireball surged down through the hole and into the depths of the tower, where it exploded. The towers were most definitely **not **fireproof on the inside.

Eragon leaped out of the burning tower onto the wall, walking away even as the screams began. The inferno raged on.

An hour later and the other two towers had been disposed of in much the same fashion, although it came at a high price. More than thirty soldiers had been killed, with many more wounded. Hundreds of dead orcs lay strewn about the wall, their blood running through the cracks in the stone.

For the moment, there was a lull in the battle. While both sides were still firing arrows, the towers had been destroyed.

Faramir was trying to reorganise his soldiers after the fight.

"Take the wounded to the healers. Place the dead in guardhouse," he ordered, pointing at a building in the courtyard below. "Tip the orcs over the side."

They set to work, Eragon busying himself by disposing of the orcs. It was messy, bloody work, but it had to be done. They needed the ramparts to be clear. In the back of his mind, he could sense the mayhem Saphira was causing on the battlefield.

About half the orcs had been dumped over the side when the shouts went up.

"A ram! They have a battering ram!" Eragon heard a soldier yell.

Eragon dropped the body he was holding and ran towards the voice.

"Where?" he asked the soldier. The man pointed, and Eragon was shocked not only at the size of the contraption, but also to see that the ram was nearly at the gate.

_Barzul!_

_How did it get so close? _Saphira asked. _How did we not see it?_

_They must have put some kind of glamour on it to hide it, _Eragon said angrily.

The ram was huge, as wide as one of the trees in Du Weldenvarden, with a metal wolf's head attached to the front. It was suspended by chains from a frame as tall and wide as the gate itself. The frame had wheels, and was moved by ogres even larger than the ones in the towers. It also had platforms to either side of it, with scores of orc archers already firing into the city.

The wolf's head had a fire in its jaws, and when Eragon probed the ram with his mind, he immediately withdrew. It was full of dark magic.

_It will cut right through the enchantments I placed, _Eragon realised. _It is strong. Too strong. Even the gates of Minas Tirith cannot hold out long against this._

_Eragon, _Umaroth interrupted, _we will watch the gates. We will tell you before they fail. Until then, return to your work. There is nothing more you can do here._

_Yes, Master._

"Heat the pitch and tar," Eragon ordered the soldiers above the gates. Then he returned to his work.

A few minutes after he had resumed dumping bodies over the wall, Eragon heard a _boom_, and felt the walls shake. The battering ram had begun its assault.

For an hour, Eragon worked to the sound of the gates taking a hammering. Finally, he threw the last body over. He stepped back and searched the courtyard below, looking for Gandalf.

He spotted him, and just as he opened his mouth to call to the wizard, a piercing shriek cut through the night. Eragon gripped his head – it felt like someone had driven a bolt through it – and resisted the instinctual urge to scream. Saphira felt his pain through their connection and momentarily lost her concentration, falling a few feet.

_Eragon! What's happening? _she cried, worry lacing her voice. _Are you okay?_

_I'm…fine, _he forced out, his teeth gritted from the pain.

All around him, the soldiers of Gondor were holding their heads, shouting, some falling to the ground.

_I…don't know what's making…the noise…AAGH! _he shouted, as another shriek pierced his skull. Suddenly, just as the noise faded, a row of soldiers were slammed by a black tail. They fell screaming off the wall and landed with a sickening crunch in the courtyard below. The screaming stopped.

"Nazgul," Eragon gasped aloud.

A whoosh of air was Eragon's only warning to duck, the tail missing him by inches. The soldiers around him were not so lucky.

_Saphira!_

_I'm coming, Eragon. But you need to get higher._

The beast screamed again, and Eragon clutched at his ears. He took off running, even as it raised its voice once more.

"Letta du guth!" he shouted. There was a sudden silence as the beast's screeching was cut-off. He kept running, and leapt off the wall on to the roof of a building in the courtyard. Leaping from roof to roof, Eragon was soon high enough to see the entire orc army stretched out before him.

Finding a flat bit of ground, Eragon waited for Saphira.

_I'm ready, Eragon._

He ran. He ran until he reached the edge, and then he jumped, trusting that Saphira would catch him.

And of course she did.

He removed the charm keeping her invisible and strapped himself in.

_Let them see us, _he growled.

Even voiceless, the Nazgul and its beast were terrorising the soldiers. From his high perch, Eragon could see the broken bodies of Gondor's defenders lying scattered in the courtyard.

He let his rage fill him.

Saphira let loose a bone-shaking roar, more primal and terrifying than anything the over-sized bat could offer up. She roared once more as she slammed into the beast, raking her claws across its side and drawing blood.

They were too high up for the soldiers to see Saphira, but nevertheless, Eragon could hear them shouting in fear, until a voice – Gandalf – drowned them all out. "IGNORE IT! OUR ENEMY IS AT THE GATE! TAKE UP YOUR POSITIONS!"

As Saphira grappled with the beast, Eragon got his first glance at the rider; the Nazgul. A creature wearing a black cloak, hatred rolled off it in waves, and Eragon spied a gruesome black sword in its hand.

Saphira pushed off the creature, digging her claws in again and causing big fat drops of black blood to fall to the ground below. As she turned away, Saphira bit off the last three feet of the beast's tail, trying to goad it into following her.

The enraged creature flew after Saphira as she led it away from the city. Once they were clear of the walls, Saphira changed direction and started flying upwards.

_They are used to preying on those below, _Saphira said in answer to Eragon's questioning thought, _not fighting in the sky._

The she-dragon suddenly looped backwards, positioning herself right under the Nazgul. Before any of them could react, she bit off the creature's foot, flinging it to the fields below. The beast opened its maw in a scream of pain, but no sound escaped.

_SAPHIRA! MOVE! _Eragon screamed in her mind. The Nazgul had raised its deadly sword and swung it at her head. She darted sideways and it missed by a hairsbreadth.

Eragon was furious. How dare _anyone _try and hurt his dragon.

Saphira backed off and then came in for another pass. This time, Eragon swung at the Nazgul. Their swords clashed with a metallic grating noise. Disengaging, Eragon knew he had the upper hand. He could tell the Nazgul wasn't experienced at fighting while flying.

Saphira swooped in again, slower this time, trying to match the pace of the weakened beast. Eragon swung again, three hard blows, each blocked. The fourth slipped past the Nazgul's guard and slashed it across the chest. It screeched in pain.

Saphira was now flying directly alongside the injured creature.

"No man…can kill ussssss…" the Nazgul hissed at him.

Eragon struck faster than the blink of an eye, and stabbed it where the heart should be. It screeched again.

"I'm not a man," Eragon said. He pulled his sword out. "I'm a Rider. Brisingr."

The sword hummed in his hand, blue flames licking up its length. Eragon raised his sword…and plunged it into the gaping hole where the Nazgul's face should have been. It screamed, its body lighting up like an oil-soaked rag. Even as Eragon watched, the Nazgul disintegrated into nothingness. Saphira reached over and sunk her teeth into the neck of the Nazgul's beast. She shook her head viciously, breaking every bone in the creature's neck. She let go and the lifeless body fell. When it hit the ground, it crushed many orcs beneath it. Those left standing looked to the skies in terror.

The Rider and his Dragon hovered in the sky for several moments, taking it all in. Looking to the horizon, they saw that dawn was only a few hours off. Hopefully, Rohan would come with it.

_Eragon, Saphira, _Umaroth interrupted. _The gate is very weak. They will break through in the next few minutes._

Wordlessly, the pair flew back to the city. At Saphira's request, Eragon hid her from view again. As they flew over the walls, they saw that the gate was indeed splintered and cracking, armoured ogres and trolls ready to burst through.

Eragon leapt from Saphira's back as she swept over a building. As he landed in the dust, she whispered, _Be careful, Eragon…_

He ran, drawing Brisingr and grabbing a fallen spear as he raced to the gates. He skidded to a stop in the courtyard just in time to see the wolfhead sticking through the gates. It was pulled back, leaving a gaping hole, and Eragon knew he only had seconds.

"SOLDIERS!" he bellowed. "PICK UP YOUR SPEARS! ARCHERS! READY YOURSELVES! FOR GONDOR!"

"FOR GONDOR!" they roared back. The gates burst open, and heavily armoured trolls stormed into the city, swinging their deadly maces from side to side. The walls they had earlier built hampered the enemy, the trolls having to go in twos.

"HOLD!" Eragon commanded. They needed to wait, wait until they were all trapped, wait until –

"FIRE!"

Hundreds of arrows and spears embedded themselves in the trolls, killing them. Instantly, orcs were climbing over the bodies, scampering into the courtyard.

"FIRE!" Eragon bellowed again. "FIRE AT WILL!"

The archers were felling orcs by the hundred, but thousands were pouring through the breached gate. All around him, soldiers were fighting, but the enemy numbers were just too great.

"PITCH AND TAR!" Eragon shouted. The soldiers stationed above the gate dutifully tipped the pots of boiling death. The orcs below screamed miserably as they died, but Eragon refused to feel sorry for them. They earned a few seconds of respite.

He heard Faramir calling from behind him.

"Shields! Shields! Form a wall!" The soldiers lined up in rows, ready to face the next onslaught.

They fought bitterly, desperately, but every minute they were pushed back a step backwards, purely by the sheer number of orcs facing them. If a man in the front fell, a soldier from the row behind would step up and take his place. The system was good, but they were losing too many men.

Eragon hurled a spear at a troll who had just smashed three soldiers into a wall, and watched with satisfaction as it went straight through its neck, killing it stone dead.

They were halfway down the avenue leading to the next level, and finally came the shout that Eragon had been expecting for a while.

"Retreat! Retreat to the second level!"

The soldiers never turned their backs, but they picked up the pace in their backwards shuffle.

Eragon, in the leading line, was constantly repelling attacks, and for a moment was confused when several hundred orcs in front of him dropped dead.

"Run! Run to the gates!" came a voice from behind. Eragon obeyed, surprised to find that he was only twenty paces from the entrance to the second level.

The gates slammed shut seconds after he ran through, and seconds later they were being hammered on from the other side, the orcs howling.

Soldiers who had fought constantly for the past few hours suddenly collapsed to the ground, energy and courage gone. Others sagged against nearby buildings, seemingly small injuries now taking their toll. Eragon took all this in, and was glad. Many soldiers were still alive, and that meant they still had hope.

As Eragon looked at the scenes around him, the first fingers of dawn touched the city.

For an hour, the soldiers managed to get some respite. They ate some bread, and each man got an apple. Mead was handed around in small amounts, to raise spirits as much as to quench the soldier's thirst. Eragon healed those he could, even returning to the healers' building.

Through all this, the archers continually fired into the horde of orcs pounding on the gates, although it didn't seem to make much difference. The enemy couldn't bring the battering ram they used on the main gate through the city, but they didn't need it. The gates for each level were significantly smaller than that in the outer wall. An hour of being hammered on by trolls had left it weakened and creaking.

Saphira's raids had significantly reduced enemy numbers, but there was only so much she could do without revealing herself.

_Eragon!_ Saphira said excitedly. _I can see the Riders of Rohan on the horizon!_

_What? That's great! _Eragon exclaimed. _How long do you think it'll take them to get to the city?_

_An hour? Maybe less. They're travelling quickly._

_Keep me updated. _Saphira sent him the mental equivalent of a raised eyebrow. _Please, _he added hastily.

_Of course, Little One._

Eragon searched for Gandalf and Faramir, and found them talking together further up the street. Jogging up to them, he saw the grim looks on their faces and knew what they were thinking.

Faramir turned to him. "It is hopeless, Eragon. This battle cannot end in any way but with our deaths!"

Gandalf put a hand on the young Captain's shoulder. "You are starting to sound like your father, Faramir. It must stop!"

The man calmed himself, and Eragon prepared to share his news, but before he could, Faramir started speaking.

"I sent some men a while ago to check on the state of the enemy during daylight," Faramir started, "and they found something interesting."

Faramir had Eragon's attention.

"It appears that the orc army is three quarters the size it was at the start of the battle. And most of their losses are not through our doing."

_Ah,_ Eragon thought. _That._

"While our archers and catapults did their fair share of damage, it appears that around the edges of the army, the orcs have nearly all been killed. Was this your doing?"

Eragon was pondering his answer, and had just opened his mouth to give an answer when Gandalf cut across him.

"I told you that Eragon is a traveller, Faramir. Well, he did not travel alone. He came with a companion. They have been through many battles together – and won them. In their land, they were leaders. And they came here together. To Minas Tirith."

"Well where is this companion of yours?" Faramir asked, turning to Eragon. "Where is he?"

Gandalf answered again, leaving Eragon quite bemused. "She," he corrected. "Eragon's companion is a she. And she is out there," the wizard said, pointing out over the ramparts.

Before Faramir could form a reply, Gandalf finished, "Her name is Saphira. And she is a dragon. Eragon is her Rider."

Faramir was stunned into silence. "Lies," he finally rasped. "The dragons are all dead."

"Not in my home," said Eragon, stepping forward. "In my home, Dragons and Riders are the guardians of the land. We defend the weak, help the sick, protect the good from the evil."

"But – " Faramir protested.

"We do not have time for this," Eragon said impatiently. "Saphira spotted Rohan's army. They are less than an hour away."

Gandalf clapped his hands together in delight, but Faramir's face was torn, and Eragon could read it like a book.

"You don't know whether to believe me. I understand. It sounds ridiculous. But have I done anything for you to lose your trust in me?"

"No."

"Would a dragon explain the losses your men saw to the orc army?"

"Yes." Faramir sighed, and wearily rubbed his face. "I do not know what to believe. But I trust you." He looked at Eragon, eyes bright and clear.

They made their plans.

The idea was simple. The arrival of Rohan meant that the orcs would have to turn their attention away from the city. Many of the orcs in the city would be drawn outside its walls into the battle. The orcs left in Minas Tirith would pose little threat.

Every able-bodied soldier was mounted on an armoured war horse. The men had been split into two groups. One group, led by Eragon, would race through the city when the gates opened and ride the remaining orcs into the ground. The second group, led by Faramir, would follow closely behind, finishing off any survivors. While Eragon's group would continue out on to the plains, Faramir's would stay inside the city to secure it.

The soldiers were lining the avenue that wound through the city, the horses standing three across. They were nearly silent, waiting for the horn that would signal Rohan's attack.

Eragon was standing with the archers, three spears in his grasp. The trolls were still pounding on the gate. It was splintering and would soon give way.

Eragon watched through Saphira's eyes as Rohan's riders stopped on a hill overlooking the city. He heard their horn blow and he sensed the soldiers behind him shuffle and whisper, then fall silent again. He watched as Theoden rallied his soldiers, heard the horn blow again and then they charged.

He heard an orc horn blow one, two, three times and Saphira looked over to the city. Orcs were streaming out, just like they'd hoped. They were desperately trying to form a line facing the oncoming riders.

Eragon watched as the orcs fired arrows at the mounted warriors, taking down some, but not enough. They realised too late that the horses could not be stopped, and Eragon looked on in satisfaction as the riders ripped through the orcs as if they weren't there.

He came back to himself and signalled to the archers around him.

"Risa," he whispered. The three spears left his hand and went to hover over the gate. Eragon raised his hand above his head, and as he brought it down quickly, he whispered, "Thrysta." The spears shot downward, each finding their mark. At the same time, the archers fired, cutting down the orcs outside the gate.

Eragon raced back to his horse at the front of the column. Once in the saddle, he brought the horse to a trot, and within a few seconds they were galloping. The gates opened so slowly Eragon feared they would crash into them.

Galloping through the gates, Eragon got a quick glimpse of the three trolls with spears buried in their brains. The archers had done a good job of clearing the space in front of the gates, and the horses were going so fast they simply ran over the first orcs they encountered.

As they raced through the city, the first few horses knocked the fleeing orcs to the ground, and the rest of the horses in the column trampled them to death.

_Saphira, could you get the walls?_

He sensed her flying back towards the city, and a few seconds later;

_The walls are clear. The courtyard too._

_Thank you._

_Eragon? I think they need to see what a real dragon is._

He lifted the charm on her, and he heard her roars of delight at the same time as he heard the orcs' screams of terror. To their credit, the soldiers behind him never panicked.

As the avenue opened out into the courtyard, Gandalf – to Eragon's right – raised his hand. The trolls blocking the gateway were flung to one side just as the column rode out of the city.

They quickly made two lines, and they picked up more speed in the open plains. With more space between the horses, Eragon was able to draw Brisingr. He saw soldiers all around him doing the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Saphira's scales sparkling in the morning sun. She was roaring and burning hundreds of orcs to death, making sure to stay well away from all of the riders.

"IGNORE THE DRAGON!" Eragon yelled at his soldiers. "SHE'S ON OUR SIDE! FIGHT THE ORCS!" He knew they all had heard him; whether they believed and trusted him was a different story.

The orcs never knew what hit them. Facing Rohan's riders, Eragon's force hit them from behind and cut more than a thousand down before they were noticed. Even then, there wasn't much the orcs could do about it.

The riders from both Rohan and Gondor rampaged through the enemy, decimating their ranks. Of course, they also sustained losses of their own, but compared to the orc army, they were minimal at best.

Eventually though, the horses slowed, and the orcs closed in. The fighting became bloodier and much more deadly for the defending forces. The orcs hacked at the horses' legs, and when the poor beasts went down, they then hacked at the riders.

Eragon was trying his best to keep his horse and himself from harm, slashing this way and that, when he heard a shriek that made his ears scream in protest. Several horses dropped from the sky just in front of him, the riders still in the saddles. Twisting around, Eragon saw a Nazgul and its mount swooping away, two more in the distance.

_Saphira?_

_Yes Little One? _Eragon caught an image of her biting several orcs in half.

_Would you care to join me for a spot of Nazgul hunting?_

_I would love to. _She growled. _I'll meet you away from the horses._

Eragon looked around, searching for something. It didn't take long to find it.

Spotting a soldier whose horse had just been cut out from under him, Eragon barked out, "Jierda!" The orcs who had been advancing on the downed soldier dropped to the ground, screaming in pain. As Eragon arrived, he hopped off his horse and finished them off. Done, he turned and helped the soldier to his feet.

"Here, take my horse. I have no need of him right now."

"But Lord Eragon," the soldier protested. Eragon grimaced. "What about you? What will you do?"

"I have some business to take care of. Now up." Eragon waited until the soldier was seated in the saddle, and then said, "Now listen to me. I want that horse back after the battle. So stay alive, soldier."

"Yes sir!"

Satisfied, Eragon turned and ran to Saphira. His speed and proficiency with a blade meant no orcs could touch him as he flew through their ranks, a line of dead and fatally wounded the only indication he had ever been there.

Saphira, for her part, instead of flying to meet Eragon, had decided to leap. Each of her leaps could cover a couple of hundred feet, and when she landed, she used her tail to batter scores of orcs into the void. In this way, it was only a few minutes before the two met in the middle of the battlefield.

As soon as Saphira's feet had touched the ground in front of him, Eragon sprung up her back and into the saddle, strapping himself in. She took off immediately, winging her way towards the Nazgul and beast that were terrorising soldiers.

As they drew closer, Eragon once again shouted, "Letta du guth!" The terrible screeching was cut off, and Eragon watched as the Nazgul atop the beast's back turned its head, searching for what had silenced its mount. When the eyes of the Dark Rider landed on them, Eragon refused to acknowledge the chill that went down his spine.

The Nazgul steered the creature towards them, flying fast. What it did not realize, or perhaps care about, was that Saphira was a dragon. A dragon that was no longer trying to keep itself hidden from those below. And if there is one thing that every creature in every world knows, it is this; dragons breathe fire.

The oncoming black beast was engulfed in the fiery blue inferno that erupted from Saphira's maw. A high pitched screaming came from the flames. Knowing that it couldn't be the beast, Eragon realized it was the Nazgul itself.

Acting quickly, Saphira changed course and turned 180 degrees, so that Eragon's head was now pointed towards the ground. She raked her claws along the belly of the beast, rivers of black blood flowing out of the wounds. She snapped at his tail, and while nothing came off, half of it was left dangling, the bones destroyed.

She did a half-loop, and, still upside down, Eragon found himself now directly above the flaming Nazgul. Without hesitation, Eragon thrust Brisingr above his head, burying the sword in the Nazgul's skull. The screaming intensified, until it suddenly stopped, the Nazgul disintegrating.

Already weakened by Saphira's flames and attacks, the Nazgul's beast could do nothing as the dragon bit down on its neck, her powerful jaws and wickedly sharp teeth tearing through flesh. There was a sickening crunch as she sliced though the bones, and then the head separated from the rest of its body. The two, now separate pieces, raced each other to the ground a thousand feet below, becoming unrecognisable when they collided with the orcs below.

Saphira righted herself, but the pair had only a few moments of rest before two more Nazgul were upon them.

Saphira bathed the two beasts in flame – it seemed an effective way of keeping them at bay. Eragon silenced the creatures but it didn't stop the faint screaming of the two Nazgul. They wordlessly decided to incapacitate one of the beasts so they could take on the other.

Saphira chose her target and positioned herself. Flying fast just to its side and slightly underneath, she snapped off the lower third of its tail. Continuing her path, Eragon raised Brisingr and sliced at the creature's foreleg. The severed limb came cleanly off and disappeared below them.

Confident that the beast would not attack them, Saphira shifted her attention to its kin. She breathed flames on it again, blinding it to her movements. She chomped down on a wing, ripping the delicate skin and breaking bones. She used her claws to inflict maximum damage as she latched on to its side, allowing Eragon access to its rider.

Eragon exchanged several blows with the Nazgul, each time increasing his strength. He finally battered away his opponent's sword and slashed his chest twice in quick succession. The Nazgul howled, its robes in ribbons.

"No man…" it rasped at him.

"Yes, I know," Eragon said. "Unfortunately for your foul self, I am a Rider."

Eragon swung Brisingr once again, and lopped off the head of the Nazgul. Both the body and detached head instantly dissipated into the air.

Saphira tightened her grip on the dying beast, crushing its body. She let go and darted her head forward, clamping down at the base of its skull. The now lifeless creature dropped soundlessly in the morning light.

_One more, _Eragon said to his partner.

_Let us finish this._

The Nazgul and its badly injured mount had dropped well below the Rider and his sapphire Dragon. Saphira spiralled down to them and announced her presence by trying to turn them to ashes.

The burning Nazgul was flailing and screaming – apparently they didn't like fire. Eragon knew he only needed one chance to end this, and Saphira gave it to him. She clamped the neck of the fell beast between her jaws, immobilising it. This position would have left her vulnerable if she didn't have someone watching her back. But she did. Eragon struck faster than the fastest of elves, stabbing the Nazgul through the neck and twisting his blade. Its scream died as it did, and Saphira quickly sent its mount into the void after it, crushing the beast's neck in her jaws and breaking its spine.

Saphira roared her victory to the world as the body hit the ground below, her triumphant bellow ringing in the ears of every soldier and orc on the plain.

The partners remained in the sky for many moments, taking in the battle still raging below and trying to calm their racing hearts. From their lofty vantage point, they could see how the battle had played out in their absence.

The orcs had been driven away from the gates of the city, the riders leaving thousands upon thousands of dead in their wake. Eragon guessed there to be perhaps thirty thousand orcs left, but finishing them off would not be easy. The riders had come to a standstill and now, instead of simply riding over the orcs, they had to fight them by sword. Their own dead were growing by the minute.

Before Eragon and Saphira could re-join the fray, a deep horn blew. Looking in the direction the noise came from, their eyes filled with both wonder and dismay.

To the east, approaching the city, were twenty huge creatures, each three times the size of Saphira. They were the strangest things Eragon had ever seen. Their skin looked like thick, grey leather, their legs the size of tree trunks. From their faces, they had a giant muscular limb where a nose should be, and two huge curving tusks.

The tusks were adorned with vicious spikes, and upon their backs were great wooden contraptions housing many warriors, all armed with spears and bows. Touching the minds of the great beasts – Eragon would later learn they were called oliphants – he found them to be crazed, driven mad by torture. He knew they could not be saved, but he hated those who had done this to them.

As they flew towards the oliphants, Eragon saw the orcs beneath them flee towards the newcomers. He and Saphira watched as the orcs regrouped behind the beasts, thinking themselves safe from the riders on the plain.

They heard another horn, and knew it to be that of Rohan. Eragon searched for a mind below, and when he found it he said, _Theoden, it is Eragon. Do not charge yet. Your men will be cut to pieces. Saphira and I will disrupt the beasts' formation and then you can run the orcs into the ground._

Eragon sensed Theoden's feeling of acknowledgement and cut the connection.

As Saphira got closer and closer, the two formed a plan. As Saphira flew over the first of the oliphants, Eragon jumped. He landed lightly on the rump of the beast, and cried, "Jierda!"

The straps holding the wooden platform on to the beasts' back snapped with a loud crack. As it crashed to the ground far below, Eragon set it on fire. Bounding up the back of the oliphant, Eragon stood balanced on top of its skull.

Eragon mentally prepared himself and said a silent apology to the animal, then drove Brisingr downwards with all his strength. The oliphant stumbled as if drunk, and suddenly crashed to its knees, dead.

Eragon jumped off and ran to his next target. The wrinkled skin on the leg provided perfect handholds for climbing, and Eragon dispatched two more oliphants in this fashion.

As the third beast dropped to the ground, Eragon heard a scream. A woman's scream. Desperately searching, Eragon saw something he would never forget.

A soldier – Éowyn, he realised with a shock – hacking the head off a Nazgul's beast. He began to run. He didn't need to tell Saphira where he was going – she already knew. Eragon was now at a full sprint, but he knew he still wouldn't make it in time, and he watched the scene play out in front of him as if time had slowed.

A Nazgul approached Éowyn – the King of the Nazgul, wearing his dark crown. He swung his flail – a spiked metal ball on a chain – at Éowyn's head, and she just about ducked. Swinging it again, Éowyn fell to the ground and rolled out of the way. About to swing it for a third time, the Nazgul suddenly tipped back its head and screeched.

A very small figure – a hobbit, Eragon saw – had stabbed the Nazgul in the back of the calf. That same hobbit was now screaming and clutching his arm.

Eragon sped up.

He watched in morbid fascination as Éowyn stood up and picked up her sword. She stood in front of the Nazgul and, just as Eragon had done to the first Nazgul he had killed, she plunged her sword into its face.

Immediately she let go of her sword and dropped to the ground, writhing. The King of the Nazgul was convulsing, and slowly, he too disintegrated into nothingness, finally entering the void.

Eragon arrived seconds later and took everything in. Merry– Merry! – was lying curled on his side, completely still. Éowyn was in a similar position, unmoving in her apparent slumber. Eragon's eyes were drawn to what she had been protecting.

Theoden, the King of Rohan, lay crushed beneath his horse. Making his way over to the old king, Eragon saw that he was still breathing – barely.

"Risa," Eragon said, moving the horse off to one side. An unobstructed view of Theoden did not improve the situation much. His entire torso and upper legs had been crushed by the heavy horse. Eragon had to work quickly to save his life.

Eragon called some riders to him and had them form a protective ring around himself, Theoden, Merry and Éowyn. The healing process was long and complicated, and even then, Eragon was only focusing on the life threatening injuries.

Halfway through the healing process, Eragon felt a searing pain in his side, as if he'd been stabbed with a hot, metal poker. He struggled not to scream.

_SAPHIRA!_

_I'm…fine… _she grunted. _The beast caught me…with its tusk._

_Is it bad? _Eragon asked worriedly.

_It's deep…but nothing's broken…and it didn't hit any organs… I'll be fine for a while. Finish with Theoden…then heal me._

Eragon continued with his ministrations, but when Saphira landed nearby several minutes later, he had to pause for a moment to order the soldiers not to attack her. From the looks on their faces, they had no intention of it.

Eragon uttered the last words of the incantation, and the last muscle in Theoden's chest knitted back together. The elderly king lay on the ground in a deep sleep, chest slowly rising and falling.

Eragon stood up probed the minds of Merry and Éowyn. The two were in a deep slumber, but their minds were clouded by a dark shadow that Eragon could not shift. He let them be, intending for Gandalf to do his best.

Eragon ran to Saphira. He was worried before he had even seen the wound. For Saphira to admit that the wound was deep, it must be bad. As he arrived at her side, the first thing he saw was her blood soaked hide. Her scales were sticky with thick, dark dragon's blood.

The tusk had pierced her body just behind her left foreleg, going in four feet or so. It was the tusk's exit that had caused most of the damage and pain. Backwards facing spikes had been tied around the tusk, and when it was pulled out, it tore skin and muscle apart. The foot-wide hole was now clogged with semi-congealed blood and skin.

Eragon placed his hands around the wound and whispered the words of healing and restoration. A shiver ran over Saphira's body as skin, muscle and scales regrew and knitted together. Eragon stepped back and observed the shiny new scales.

_Thank you, Little One. That feels much better, _Saphira said gratefully.

Eragon sighed and leaned against her, tired from his spellcasting.

_How many did you get? Before… _he tailed off, gesturing at her side.

_Ten. And a half. The last one gored me before I could finish him._

_Thirteen and half between us then. Did you see what happened to the orcs?_

_They – _

Her response was cut off by sudden screaming.

"Stay there!" Eragon shouted at the guarding soldiers. He leapt into the saddle and strapped himself in as Saphira took off. For a moment, neither of them could understand what was happening. Then they saw it. A green wave washing over the battle, coming from Osgiliath.

Eragon was preparing to do something – anything – against this new force, until Saphira said, _Look_.

The wave washed over the remaining oliphants, bringing them to their knees and leaving them dead. It swept through the riders and orcs, but only the orcs were felled. As they came ever closer, Eragon could make out faces among the green mist, figures sweeping along – no, over – the ground. They were gliding above the bloody battlefield.

_Spirits?_

They watched as a golden-haired elf slid down the trunk of the last remaining oliphant as it crashed to the ground, and their eyes were drawn to a dwarf and a man fighting the final few orcs left on the battlefield.

_Aragorn! _Eragon watched the man's head shoot up. _Come quick!_

Aragorn ran, Legolas hot on his heels and Gimli trying his best to keep up. Eragon led them through the ring of guards and to the three sleeping figures.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked, aghast. Eragon explained in as little words as possible.

"I need to bring Merry and Éowyn to the city. I can do nothing for them here. The King should be fine in a few days. His body just needs time to rest."

One of the soldiers gave Aragorn his horse, and then handed Éowyn up to him. Legolas simply picked up Merry, and the two left without a word, one by horse, the other by foot. Gimli trundled along after them, burying his axe in any orc that was still moving.

The riders around Eragon set about making a stretcher to bring the King up to the city.

The Rider and Dragon stood side by side, content simply to be in each other's presence. The battle was finally over.

**AN It's the longest chapter I've ever written by far so I hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought! Nym x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**AN There's no real excuse for how appallingly late this is so I'm just gonna say sorry and leave it at that.**

Eragon spent hours on the battlefield. He wandered, healing those that he could, but for the most part, helping soldiers to enter the void as painlessly as possible. He happened upon the occasional orc that was still breathing, but he spared them no mercy.

Saphira had begun the long process of separating the dead. She created a large mound of dead orcs, picking them up from around the battlefield and dropping them together. The large mound would become a small hill very soon.

The light was fading when Eragon began the walk back to the city. There was no more he could do until he had slept and eaten. His body needed to rest. He walked slowly – for an elf – thinking back on the battle. It went as well as he could have hoped, Eragon concluded. Of course, soldiers had died – it is inevitable when fighting a war, but their losses could have been far worse.

_Saphira? What will you do?_

_I too, need to rest. My body is weary. I will finish soon and then eat. I will not let those tusked-creatures go to waste._

Eragon could feel her hunger through their link. He sent her his love and affection, keeping their link wide open. As he strode through the city's ruined gates, the soldiers still milling about in the courtyard fell quiet.

"Hail, Eragon," someone said. The words were taken up by the crowd, echoing in his mind as he walked through them. It faded as he continued his journey, his path taking him higher in the city. He stopped as he stepped through a doorway.

"Lord Eragon," Jenny said as she rushed up to him. "Are you injured?" the healer asked.

"No, I came to see how Éowyn and Merry were doing. A woman and a halfling," Eragon said, seeing her blank face.

"Ah! Yes. Follow me." She led him through a maze of rooms to two beds beside a window. Touching the minds of the bed's occupants, Eragon found them sleeping peacefully.

"It was a miracle," Jenny said in a hushed voice. "Lord Aragorn used kingsfoil – a weed! – to heal them. He fed them a poultice and their breathing eased and they fell into a deep sleep. He said they would stay like this for a day or two because their bodies need to heal."

"Thank you, Jenny," said Eragon softly. "And what of King Theoden?"

"Sleeping too," she said simply.

He turned to leave. A voice stopped him.

"Will you help us? There are many injured, and there is only so much we can do for them."

"I will, but in the morning. I promise. My body needs to rest. If I try to help now, I may do more harm than good."

"I understand," Jenny replied. They walked together back to the entrance.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jenny."

"Yes. Goodnight, Eragon. And thank you."

He smiled at her and left.

The dead had been cleared from the streets, but signs of battle were still evident. Broken arrows littered the ground and blood slowly trickled through the cobbles. Doors were hanging off their hinges and many of the stone buildings had scorch marks and scratches on the outer walls.

The further Eragon walked, the more people he saw – not only soldiers, but the regular people of Minas Tirith. The lower two levels were still closed off, so Eragon had to slowly work his way through the crowds. He listened to the whirlwind of thoughts and voices surrounding him, trying to pick out what he wanted to know.

" – and Mithrandir – "

_The King of Gondor!_

"Captain Faramir was…the citadel…"

Eragon pushed on through the crowd, now with a clear destination in mind. He caught a glimpse from Saphira of the oliphant as she landed beside it, ready to fill her belly.

As Eragon walked through the final set of gates that opened on to the seventh level of the city, silence fell upon his ears. The noise of the city below faded to nothing as the Lead Rider strode over to the citadel. He nodded to the soldiers each side of the door as he entered.

The citadel reminded Eragon of the cathedral in Dras Leona. It was cavernous, gloomy, and had a hopeless air to it. Eragon walked through the dimness to the far end of the room, his footsteps echoing loudly. As he approached the figures clustered around a large throne, he could hear them muttering quietly.

The voices stopped as Eragon entered their midst. Gandalf, Pippin, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn stared at the new arrival.

"It is good to see you are unharmed," Aragorn said to him. "I have been told that without you, we may have been too late to help."

"We did everything we could," Eragon said honestly. "Even still, your arrival made all the difference." Eragon noticed a new sword strapped to Aragorn's hip, much longer than his old one. It looked newly forged, but Eragon could feel an aura of power and history radiating from it. He looked around at the assembled group. "Where is Lord Denethor?"

Grim faces met him, and Faramir hung his head. It was Gandalf who answered. "Dead." Eragon stared intently at the old wizard. "Pippin came to me during the battle," Gandalf said, squeezing the young hobbit's shoulder. "Lord Denethor threw himself from the top of the city to the streets below."

Aragorn cleared his throat, disturbing the silence that had fallen on the group. "We were just discussing what do next, before you arrived," he said to Eragon. "We know, thanks to Faramir, that Frodo and Sam took a route to Mordor that brought them through the Morgul Vale. We have to hope that they are still alive, and have not been captured."

"How can they not have been?" Legolas asked. "The plains between the Vale and Mount Doom are filled with orcs. Thousands of them. They have no hope of making it across without being seen."

"Unfortunately," Gandalf said, "Legolas is right. Unless the orcs clear those plains, the Ring will never be destroyed."

Eragon stayed quiet. He knew as a last resort that he and Saphira could try and find the hobbits, but in all likelihood Frodo and Sam would flee at the sight of the dragon, not to mention that Eragon really didn't want to come anywhere near the Ring. He held his tongue, hoping that one of the others would come up with something.

"We need to clear the plains," Aragorn started. "We need Sauron to move his armies."

"We've already established this," Gimli said gruffly. Aragorn gave him a look.

"Sauron will only move his armies if he feels threatened. So we need to threaten him. We need to march on the black gate."

Incredulous faces looked back at the Ranger. "Attack the black gate?" Eomer asked in disbelief. "No army has ever done that in all of history. And even if we did, and we had all of our soldiers, who's to say that Sauron would come out. He could sit behind his black walls and wait until we starve."

"He will come out," said Faramir quietly. "He will see it as a chance to once and for all destroy the race of Men."

No one said anything. They had no other plan.

"So it is decided," Gandalf announced. "We march on the Black Gate."

Aragorn stood up straighter, looking at each of his companions. "Tonight we rest. Tomorrow, we prepare. In two days, we march."

There were mumbles of agreement, and the group went their separate ways.

"Eragon!" Pippin called, the hobbit running to try and catch up. "Faramir has given you a room to stay in, if you wish, now that you don't have to hide. I can take you to it."

"Thank you Pippin. A bed would be most welcome," Eragon said gratefully. He slowed his steps so that Pippin could keep up. The two walked in comfortable silence, Pippin leading the Rider through a series of corridors until he stopped outside a door. "This is yours. Myself and Gandalf have rooms just up the hall. If you want to change out of your armour, I can bring you to get some food. I'd say you're hungry," he said mischievously, the hobbit's eyes lighting up at the thought of food.

"Starving," Eragon said, laughing. He entered the room and changed quickly, removing his armour and placing it on the bed. He kept Brisingr belted to his side however – he never knew when he'd need it.

Pippin once again led him through the halls, but this time they ended up in soldiers' mess area. They were each handed a bowl of stew and an apple, and the pair of them found some seats at an empty table. All was quiet except for the sounds of eating as the two eagerly tucked in to their food. It was only when the bowls were finally scraped clean that they spoke.

"Do you think Merry will be ok?" Pippin asked quietly.

"Yes," Eragon answered honestly. "He was asleep when I saw him. His body just needs to rest."

"Oh," said Pippin, relieved.

"He'll be up and about soon. You'll see." Eragon smiled.

Pippin looked down at his hands, and then back at Eragon. "Do you think…do you think we'll see Frodo and Sam again?"

Eragon sighed. "I hope so. I'd very much like to meet them. That's why we're marching. To give them a chance. After that, we have to hope for the best. Come on Pippin," Eragon said, seeing the hobbit's downcast face, "Tomorrow will be a long day. We'd better get to bed."

They walked back through the city, now unrecognisable from the previous night. It was dark when Eragon got back to his room. He said goodnight to Pippin and closed the door. Eragon slumped down on the bed, physically and mentally wrecked. He knew he had to do one more thing before he went to sleep.

He got to his feet and grabbed the small hand-held mirror he had spotted earlier. Collapsing back onto the bed, he reached inside himself until he felt his magic, and said the words.

The mirror shimmered like water, the fluid surface flowing into recognisable features. A bed. A desk strewn with papers. Some plants sung into the shape of glyphs. An elf.

"Eragon." She sounded surprised. "I did not expect to hear from you for a while yet."

"I know. I just wanted you to know that we won the battle."

"I am glad," she said, although she didn't show it. "And you are both alright?

"We are now."

"But you are not coming home."

"No. Not yet." Eragon sighed. "The war here is not over. And we cannot leave until it is. In two days, we're marching for the final battle."

"Please, be careful Eragon. You need to come home."

"We will. You know me, Arya. I'm always careful." He grinned.

"I mean it, Eragon."

He sobered. "I know. We'll come home." He could feel himself tiring. "I have to go. It's been a long day. I apologise for waking you," he added, noting her night clothes.

"You did not. I woke up a few minutes ago with the dawn."

_Interesting, _Eragon thought to himself. _It is a different time here than in Alagaesia._

"Well then, we both have things to do."

"Indeed," Arya said, a hint of a smile gracing her face.

"Well then, have a good day, my Queen." Eragon returned her smile.

"Goodnight, Eragon."

The mirror rippled again, and Eragon was left staring back at his own face. He placed the mirror on the stand beside his bed and kicked off his boots. He rolled over and reached out with his mind.

_Goodnight, Saphira._

_Goodnight, Little One._

And with that, the Rider shut his eyes and fell into his dreams.

* * *

The following day was spent organising armies and preparing provisions. Eragon spent much of the morning healing those who needed it, and the rest of the day was spent digging graves and burying their dead. Men of Gondor and of Rohan were buried side-by-side, songs of mourning sung as the earth took them. The orcs were thrown onto the pile Saphira had started, and when they had all been gathered together, she bathed them in fire, holding her flames long enough that they reached the centre of the enormous mountain of bodies. When she snapped her jaws shut, the raging fires kept burning, and three days later when they finally went out, all that was left was a pile of ash.

At first light, Aragorn had sent out a hundred men to butcher one of the oliphants, both for the march and to feed the people in the city. It was hours later and they were still slaving away.

Aragorn and Eomer were organising their respective armies. It was decided that Faramir would stay in the city, ruling until Aragorn returned. Eomer would take Theoden's place, the old King still recovering in the healers' buildings.

Merry woke late in the afternoon, and while the young hobbit was clearly tired, Pippin was doing his best to cheer him up.

Dusk was falling as Eragon walked over to Saphira. She had moved from their hiding place to the grassy square in front of the citadel. Eragon removed her saddle wordlessly and sat against her belly. They hadn't had much time to themselves in the last few weeks, and with another battle looming, they were both tense.

_After this Eragon, we must go home. We have to choose a new home for the Riders and Dragons. The dragons in those eggs have been in there long enough. It is time for them to come out._

_I know, Saphira. I know. Another couple of weeks, and we'll be heading back._

Neither of them mentioned their darkest fear – that one or both of them may not go home.

As the sun rose over the horizon the next morning, a man with long dark hair and a crown led a column of nine thousand soldiers through the gates of Minas Tirith. Overhead, a blue dragon glittered in the dawn light, and if one looked close enough – perhaps with the eyes of an elf – they might just make out a figure on the dragon's back.

From high above, the Rider and Dragon watched as the army snaked across the plain, marching past the burning orcs and towards Osgiliath. It took several hours for the all the men to cross the river – with the bridge destroyed, they had to be ferried across in small groups by boat. When finally they had all crossed, the march resumed.

At every crossroads the army came to, a herald proclaimed that the King of Gondor was rightfully taking back the lands of his people and Gondor's flag was planted.

Eragon was impressed at the speed of the army below, considering that all of them had fought only two days before, and many of them had been injured and then healed.

The march continued until dusk, with the soldiers only getting a couple of brief respites during the day. As the men started to set up camp, Saphira spiralled down to join them.

For four days the pattern was the same. Eragon and Saphira stayed together while the army marched below. On the fifth day however, Aragorn asked them to stay close – the Black Gate was only a few hours away.

The morning wore on, and soon Gandalf bade them to land. Saphira did so, and Eragon hopped off her back before joining the others at the front of the column as she walked alongside them.

The Black Gate finally came into view, and a shiver went through the army. They kept marching until Aragorn raised his hand, and his captains quickly got their soldiers into rows.

Aragorn rode over to where Eragon was standing.

"Come with us," he asked. "We are going to the gate."

"No," Eragon answered firmly. "This is your land. It wouldn't be right for me to go."

Aragorn gave him a strange look. "Very well. Good luck, my friend." He turned his horse and went back to the others.

Eragon watched as Pippin was placed on Gandalf's saddle, and Merry with Eomer. Legolas and Gimli were already on their horse. The companions set off, riding for the gate.

Eragon let his attention drift to the looming structure before him. A gigantic wall spanned the width of the valley they were in, with two enormous gates in the middle. As the riders got further and further away, it became clear just how big the gates were.

The soldiers watched as the gates opened a crack and a figure came through them. Eragon could see the messenger talking, and then he threw something at Gandalf. One of the riders – Eragon thought it was Aragorn - began to move his horse around the back of the figure, and then suddenly he swung his sword at the messenger, parting its head from its shoulders.

The gates started to open wider and faster. The riders turned and galloped back towards the soldiers. Eragon watched as the headless body behind them slowly toppled off the horse into the dust.

Thousands of orcs streamed out of the gates. Clearly, Sauron hadn't emptied all of Mordor for the assault on Minas Tirith, as Gandalf had believed. He had kept a significant army in reserve.

As the gates opened fully, and Eragon saw the full extent of what they faced, his eyes landed on the tower. And on the Eye that was watching them. He shivered involuntarily. _At least we have its attention, _Eragon thought. _That was the point of all this._

Aragorn reached the soldiers and saw the same fear in their eyes that Eragon did. He ignored – for the moment – the orcs that were now circling them, blocking off any hope of escape, and raised his voice. "Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

The soldiers cheered as Aragorn dismounted, standing along with his people. The orcs had finally stopped moving, and the army was now encircled. Aragorn took a few steps forward and bowed his head. He looked back once at his friends, and said, "For Frodo!" before raising his sword and charging.

Eragon heard more shouts, and watched as the two young hobbits ran after him, swords aloft. He raised his own and joined them, picking his first target.

_I love you, Saphira, _he said fiercely.

_I love you too, Little One._

The two forces smashed together, and Eragon heard Saphira roar. He used his shield to batter the first orc down and he quickly slashed at the ones surrounding him. As the soldiers arrived behind him, Eragon was left to concentrate on what lay ahead of him. He cut, stabbed and hacked his way through the horde, the never-ending, seething mass of orcs throwing themselves at him, only to be met with the shining blue of Brisingr.

_Eragon!_

As Saphira's shout echoed within his mind, a scream of another kind assaulted his ears. Looking up, he saw the four remaining Nazgul on their Fell Beasts, fast approaching and all angled towards Saphira.

The partners, on opposite sides of the battle, now tried to reach each other. One took giant leaps of a hundred feet at a time, crushing the enemy beneath her when she landed, and the other left a path of destruction in his wake, a bright flash of blue steel now and again the only indication of what was causing the mayhem.

As the pair united, Eragon leapt against Saphira's leg and kicked off, propelling himself on to her back. He had only just secured himself into the saddle when she rocketed skywards, her powerful legs launching hem into the black sky of Mordor.

Their connected minds were pierced by a fresh wave of torturous shrieks, Saphira's concentration momentarily slipping and causing them to drop a few feet in the air.

"Letta du guth!" Eragon shouted, and as they had done in Minas Tirith, the beastly screams were cut off. Unlike in Minas Tirith however, where the most Nazgul they had fought at a time was two, they now had four coming straight at them.

Their tactics were not of attack, but of survival. Even for a dragon of Saphira's size, strength and skill, four against one are never good odds. She weaved through the air, avoiding claws, teeth and swords from every direction. Eragon managed to draw blood several times with a few well-aimed swipes of Brisingr, but before he could deliver a serious blow, he would be forced to dodge an attack from another angle.

Saphira didn't come through her acrobatics unscathed. Eragon tried as best as he could to defend his partner while she concentrated on keeping them airborne, but he couldn't be in four places at once. She had gashes on both sides of her belly and a hole in the end of her tail where a tooth had gone straight through. These injuries – especially the one in her tail – were gradually taking their toll. Saphira was slowing down and could no longer make the tight turns she was capable of when she was uninjured.

Finally, Saphira bettered their chances. As one of the beasts came in close, she darted her head sideways and snapped her jaws around its neck. She shook it like a terrier would a rat, and the bones in its neck shattered.

While Saphira took care of the mount, Eragon dispatched of its rider. The Nazgul, not expecting Saphira's attack, was even more surprised to find Brisingr buried in its chest.

As the Nazgul disintegrated, Saphira flung the lifeless corpse away from her. Their joy was short lived. The other three Nazgul were hurtling down at them from above and Saphira was forced into a steep dive. Harried on every side, she was unable to turn away, and just as Eragon though he was about to be ripped from her back, they heard thumps behind them and loud screeching.

As Saphira pulled out of her dive just above the heads of the soldiers, Eragon heard their shouts. "The eagles! The eagles are coming!" they cried.

The pair glanced upwards and were met by one of the strangest sights they had seen in their lives. Giant eagles – about ten of them – were attacking the Fell Beasts. Although only a third the size of Saphira, the eagles were working together to distract the beasts. They pecked at the faces, blinding them, and they tore chunks of flesh from their tails and sides. The Nazgul could do nothing but watch.

What the eagles couldn't do, however, was actually kill the creatures.

Saphira powerfully beat her wings, driving herself towards her nearest victim. As she approached, the eagles attacking the Fell Beast flew away towards one other creatures.

The Nazgul's mount, bleeding and blinded, could do nothing as Saphira latched onto its side. Eragon traded blows with the Nazgul, its hatred almost overpowering as it rolled off it terrible waves. Brisingr sliced through the air, and as the blue sword arced downwards a black hand and a cursed sword came with it, tumbling through the dark sky until they disappeared into the melee on the ground. The Nazgul screamed hideously, but Brisingr brought silence once more.

Saphira crushed the chest of her weakened enemy in her claws, and contemptuously let it fall.

They took a moment to rest. The eagles were keeping the remaining two Nazgul occupied, and Saphira was beginning to really struggle with her wounds.

_We should finish them now. They are badly wounded._

_So are you Saphira._

_They are worse. I can last for a while longer._

_Well –_

A deep boom came from beyond the black gate, and all heads turned towards Mordor. Orcs began to flee – not towards the black land, but away from it. Eragon noticed in the distance that Mount Doom had lava spilling out the top.

As if time had slowed, the tower of the Great Eye started to crumble. It fell in on itself, breaking apart from the inside. As the eye collapsed, Eragon saw it desperately searching, searching for something. For the Ring. The Nazgul and the Fell Beasts broke away from the eagles and began flying furiously toward Mount Doom.

The disintegrating tower exploded outward, the shockwave passing over them and continuing for as far as he could see – perhaps over all of Middle Earth. Below Eragon and Saphira, the ground under the orcs started to fall away, disappearing into the earth and taking the orcs with it. The soldiers of Gondor and Rohan were grouped together and remained unharmed, the land beneath their feet staying firm. The Men started to cheer, wide smiles on their faces, but their joy was cut short.

Mount Doom exploded, the top of the volcano blown off by the force of it. Lava was shot hundreds of feet into the air, molten rock raining down for leagues. The cheering had stopped, and Eragon knew why.

His heart was heavy. The tower only fell for one reason; the One Ring had been destroyed. Frodo and Sam had completed their quest. They had thrown the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. But it was hard to see how any creature could have survived that explosion.

An eagle swooped past them towards the ground and Gandalf leapt onto its back. It rose and turned towards the burning mountain, two of its fellows joining it. Eragon watched as they receded in the distance. He could just make out the two remaining Nazgul circling the volcano, and he took small pleasure when first one, then two, were hit by burning rock and killed.

As the eagles disappeared from view, Saphira brought them slowly to the ground. Before she had even touched down, Eragon had unstrapped himself and hopped off.

_What hurts the most?_

_Tail, _she responded curtly.

He made his way to the offending limb and assessed the damage. It was worse than he'd first thought, but he kept that from Saphira. There were actually two holes in her tail, where two fangs had gone straight through. The part of her tail that was bitten was as thick as the length of Eragon's arm from wrist to elbow, and you could see daylight through each hole. One of her tail bones had been grazed, as well as muscle sliced apart. Eragon set to work, healing his partner as was a Rider's duty. It took a while, but finally the skin closed over and Saphira breathed a sigh of relief.

_Thank you, Little One. That feels much better. _She gave her tail an experimental wiggle.

_You're welcome, Saphira. But I'm not finished yet. _He healed both of her sides in turn, the cuts and grazes painful but shallow, and quick to heal. She nudged him when he was finished, wordlessly showing her thanks. He kissed her snout, glad they had both made it through.

_I need to speak to Aragorn, _Eragon said to her.

_Go. _She nudged him again. _ I'll wait here._

Penned in by the newly-formed abyss on three sides, the soldiers were massed together and so it took Eragon a while to find the man he was looking for.

Aragorn was with Eomer, Legolas and Gimli, who was attempting to console Pippin and Merry, both of whom had tear-stained faces. The nodded to him, with the exception of the two hobbits, as he strode over.

"We are waiting for Gandalf to return," Aragorn said to Eragon, answering the question he had been about to ask. "And then we will go home," he finished simply. There was nothing more to be said after that. They stood together, waiting, searching the skies.

Eragon had his eyes closed momentarily, internally conversing with Saphira, when Legolas said quietly, "Look." Eragon opened his eyes to see the elf pointing into the distance. Following his outstretched finger, Eragon saw three dark shapes coming towards them.

"Where? I can't see anything," Gimli muttered gruffly.

"That," Legolas said, turning to face the dwarf, "is because you are not an elf." He turned his eyes back to the sky. "You will see them soon."

"Hmmph," Gimli grumbled. But Legolas was right. The shapes got larger and more recognisable by the minute, and soon they could all see the eagles.

Aragorn and Eomer had quickly cleared a large area around them, and soon the eagles landed. Gandalf slid off the back of the largest bird, and rushed over to one of the other eagles, shouting at Aragorn and gesturing for him to go to the remaining one. They all watched in silence as the two men reached up to the backs of the birds, and came away with a small body in both their arms.

There was a collective intake of breath amongst the soldiers, and a desperate sob escaped from Pippin. Eragon's chest tightened.

Aragorn put his ear to the chest of one of the hobbits, listening, hoping for something. His head shot up quickly, and he and Gandalf exchanged a look.

"Eragon!" Gandalf called. The Rider hurried over. "They are still alive." Eragon gasped. "But they are very weak. And Frodo has this," Gandalf said, holding up the small hobbit's hand.

Eragon took the hand in his own. The index finger on Frodo's left hand was gone. Only a stump remained. The wound was ugly, the flesh torn and the broken bone jagged. The finger was not cut off by a knife, that was for sure.

"Can you heal it?" Gandalf asked quietly.

"Yes," answered Eragon, "But first they need some water. It looks like they haven't had a drink in days."

Water was slowly dripped into their parched mouths, and Eragon began to heal Frodo. It took time, and the hobbit's body was in such a poor state that it took longer than it should have. When he was finished, Eragon passed some energy into their bodies, and Sam briefly came to.

"Mr Frodo?" Sam croaked, his eyes searching.

"No, Sam," said Aragorn, who was still holding him. "It's me."

"Strider?" Sam asked slowly. "Is this a dream?"

"No, Sam." Aragorn smiled. "This is real. I'm here."

"Oh…" Sam tailed off, falling back into unconsciousness.

"They need rest," Gandalf announced suddenly. "We must bring them to Munas Tirith."

"It will take us at least a week to march back," Aragorn responded. "We have some wagons with us , we – "

_I can take them on my back, _Saphira interrupted. _I can carry Eragon, the two hobbits and one more._

"Thank you Saphira," Gandalf said to her. "That would be wonderful. And I would go with them, if that pleases you."

_Indeed. We should go soon. The little hobbits need proper care._

While Eragon made some quick adjustments to the saddle straps, he noticed that Merry and Pippin had tears running down their faces again, but this time they were of joy.

He helped Gandalf into the saddle, and once the wizard was strapped in, Eragon brought up Frodo and secured him.

Eragon was surprised at how young Frodo appeared when he got a proper look at him. He seemed peaceful even after all he had been through, although the flickering of his eyes under their lids suggested that not all was calm.

Eragon strapped himself in next, and then Legolas brought up Sam, the elf having no problem balancing on Saphira's leg.

"We will see you in a week then," Aragorn said to them.

"Be careful, Aragorn," Gandalf warned. "Not every orc was killed. There are many roaming the plains between here and Gondor." Aragorn nodded his understanding.

Saphira rose up into the sky, gaining height before setting her sights westward. Their journey back was uneventful except for spotting a few roaming orc packs below. It was, however, much quicker. Now that she wasn't tethered to an army, Saphira could fly at her full speed, and what had taken them seven slow days before now only took her a bit more than half a day.

They left Aragorn in the evening and Minas Tirith came into view the following morning. As the morning light reflected beautifully off Saphira's scales, she landed on the highest level of the city.

Faramir was there waiting for them, and as soon as her wings had stilled he rushed over.

"What news?! What happened!?"

"Calm, Faramir. Be calm," Gandalf told the young man. "There is no need to worry. The war is over. Sauron is defeated. We have won."

It took all of Eragon's self-control not to laugh at the shocked look on Faramir's face. Even Saphira had to stifle a laugh.

"But…how?" he stuttered.

"All will be explained, dear boy, but not now. These two hobbits must see a healer," Gandalf said.

Faramir's eyes were drawn to Frodo and Sam as Eragon unstrapped himself.

"My god…" he whispered. "I truly believed they didn't have a hope. How wrong I was."

"Faramir, can you take Sam?" Eragon handed the hobbit down to the Captain and then helped Gandalf to get down too. As soon as Eragon placed Frodo into Gandalf's arms, he and Faramir turned and sped towards the healer's buildings.

_Do you need to hunt? _Eragon asked as he took off Saphira's saddle.

_Yes. I'm starving, _Saphira growled.

Eragon laughed. _Me too, but at least my food is easier to find._

_Pathetic humans, _she sniffed. _Anyway, I might try and find some of those orcs we passed over when I am finished. We wouldn't want them to cause any trouble, now would we?_

_No. _Eragon laughed and hugged her. _I love you Saphira. I really do. I don't know what I'd do without you._

_Get lost, I expect, _Saphira said dryly. But he knew she was messing. _I love you too, Eragon._

_We're going home soon._

_Yes._

**AN Hope you liked it! Also, I know that Eragon could have regrown Frodo's finger, but I think that its loss is actually really important for both Frodo and the absolute end of the ring, so I didn't have him regrow it. Soz Frodo xoxo Let me know what you think! Nym x**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Saphira and Eragon stayed for two weeks in Minas Tirith. The first week the city was very quiet. With thousands of soldiers who would usually be there missing, the streets were mostly empty. Faramir had not wasted the time they were away, though. He had five of the oliphants butchered and the meat preserved before rot set in, and as soon as Gandalf had told him of Sauron's defeat, he sent a team of men to rebuild the bridge in Osgiliath so that the army could cross over easily when they returned.

Eragon spent the week visiting those in the healer's building, as well as talking with Gandalf, Faramir and Sam. Sam had woken three days after their arrival in Minas Tirith. Still exhausted, the first thing he had done was eat enough food to fill three grown men, and then ask for dessert. Faramir laughed until tears escaped at this request, but nonetheless found the finest pudding in Minas Tirith for the hobbit.

When Sam was ready, Gandalf sat him down, gave him a pipe with the finest Longbottom Leaf in the land – or so Gandalf said – and asked him to tell them everything. The tale was both shocking and inspiring, and Eragon found himself in awe of the hobbits and what they had achieved. He also had the question of what happened to Frodo's finger answered; it was bitten off. When Sam was finished, Eragon said what he had been thinking all along.

"You are a very good friend, Sam."

The hobbit blushed, but didn't look away. "Who are you?" he asked bravely.

Eragon opened his mouth to tell him, but as he had done before, Gandalf cut him off.

"This is Eragon, Sam. He is a friend. He saved us many times." Gandalf then told Sam of all that had happened since they were separated, but whenever he talked about Saphira, he simply said, 'Eragon's companion'."

When Gandalf finally finished, Sam turned to Eragon and asked, "Can I meet your companion, Mr Eragon Sir? I would very much like to meet him."

"Of course Sam," Eragon said, standing. "Her name is Saphira," he corrected.

"Saphira…" Eragon heard the hobbit whisper behind him. They walked through the city, the winding streets leading them upwards until they reached the gate to the seventh level. Gandalf and Eragon shared a look as the gates parted, the old wizard smiling broadly in anticipation of what was to come.

Saphira was stretched out on the grassy courtyard, soaking up the sun like a cat. Eragon turned his head just in time to see all the colour drain from Sam's face. Faramir and Gandalf both chuckled loudly at the poor hobbits expense.

"But…but…dragon…" he spluttered.

"Yes, my lad," laughed Gandalf, "A dragon indeed. Come. You wanted to meet her. Saphira doesn't bite."

"Not hobbits anyway," Eragon added, and they all laughed again, and this time even Sam let out a small smile.

Saphira's head was resting on her paws, her eyes closed. As they approached, one great eyelid opened with a _snick_, her great blue, cerulean eye following them as they stopped in front of her.

_Be nice, _Eragon warned.

Sam surprised Eragon with what he did next. He visibly straightened, trying to make himself as tall as he could, and then he walked right up to the end of Saphira's nose.

"Uh, hello, Missus Saphira. I'd just like to thank you very much for saving my friends. I don't know if you can understand me, but, uh, I wanted you to know that. Thank you." He stood back, not sure what to do next.

Saphira lifted her head off her paws and opened both eyes, looking straight at Sam.

_I can understand you perfectly, Sam, _she said. His eyes widened as much as he could. _And you are welcome._

"You can talk!"

_Yes. _She blew a puff of air at him, making him fall over.

"This is even better than Mr Bilbo's stories!" he exclaimed, a delighted smile on his face. They all laughed again, revelling in the fact that they no longer had anything to worry about.

Saphira spent her week in a very enjoyable way. When she wasn't with Eragon or Sam – in whom she had found a very good friend to play riddles with – she was hunting – either prey or orcs.

After a couple of days, her daily flights took her over the returning army, and she was able to report their position each day. In this way, Faramir was able to prepare for their arrival.

On the day before they were due to arrive back, Eragon went to Osgiliath to help finish the bridge. The men rebuilding it had done a remarkable job, but the bridge was large and wouldn't have been finished in time without Eragon's help. Work that should have taken them three days was reduced to only one with the help of magic. The bridge completed, they headed back to the city.

* * *

Aragorn rode through the city the following afternoon leading the thousands of victorious soldiers. Women, children and the men that had stayed behind lined the streets, cheering and throwing flowers. There were many happy reunions, but not every family saw their loved one come home, and there were plenty of tears as well.

The first thing Merry and Pippin did was to find Frodo and Sam. Frodo was still asleep, but he had been moved to his own quarters and away from the healers building. Sam sat by his side every day, as had Gandalf. The reunion between the hobbits was a happy one, and it made Eragon's heart glad.

The day after the army's arrival, Frodo woke up. Eragon had never seen a group of people so happy as those in the Felllowship when they were finally all together again. Sam wasted no time in introducing Eragon to Frodo, the hobbit not wanting the Rider to feel left out of their group, but the young gardener took particular pleasure in introducing Frodo to Saphira, who he had quickly become fast friends with.

Three days after he returned to the city, Aragorn's official coronation was held. The entire population of the city somehow fitted themselves on to the seventh level, filling every possible space available. Saphira perched herself on the top of the stone citadel, looking down on all those below.

Eragon stood with the hobbits at the end of the aisle that reached down through the crowds. Gandalf and Gimli stood on the steps of the citadel where the coronation would take place, Gandalf to crown Aragorn King, and Gimli holding the cushion on which the intricate silver crown rested. Eomer and Theoden stood side by side at the front of the crowd, while Faramir and Éowyn were together, hand-in-hand.

_I wonder when that happened,_ Eragon thought.

Legolas was standing off to the side with a group of elves Eragon had never seen before. He hadn't even heard of any elves entering the city.

The trumpets sounded, the crowd fell quiet and the ceremony began.

Aragorn appeared from the side, dressed royally, and slowly walked up the stone steps. He stopped on the second step from the top, facing Gandalf, who smiled at him.

The wizard turned to Gimli, who looked the happiest Eragon had ever seen him, and gently lifted the crown from its cushion. He turned back to Aragorn and raised the crown for all the crowd to see, then slowly set it down on his head, the silver in stark contrast to his long, black hair.

"Now come the days of the King!" Gandalf proclaimed, his voice magically enhanced by Eragon for all to hear. "May they be blessed!"

Aragorn took the last two steps, and turned to face the crowd. All of a sudden there was a roar as the people showed their love and appreciation for their new King. Aragorn raised his hands, and they quieted.

"This day does not belong to one man," he said, his louder-than-normal voice falling on thousands of attentive ears, "but to all. Let us together rebuild this world, that we may share in the days of peace." Joyous applause emanated from the crowd, and petals drifted down from above.

Aragorn descended from the steps, walking slowly down the aisle, talking to his people, to the thousands who had come to see him begin his reign. About halfway down the aisle, Legolas stepped out from the side and he and Aragorn embraced. They exchanged a few words, and then Legolas stepped aside to reveal the other elves. Aragorn looked wide-eyed from Legolas to his fellows, as they parted to reveal a beautifully ethereal woman in their midst.

The crowd had quieted as they witnessed this, but their silence turned to joy when their new King rushed forward and scooped the woman into his arms, spinning around and kissing her lovingly.

_Well, _Saphira snorted, _that was unexpected._

The pair walked arm-in-arm through the people, who were cheering even louder than before. As they approached where Eragon was standing, he stepped back and tried his best to blend into the crowd. This day was not about him.

Aragorn stopped in front of the Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry, who were dressed in the finest clothes that Minas Tirith had to offer. The four hobbits bowed low, only for Aragorn to stop them.

"My friends," he paused, looking at each of them in turn. "You bow to no one." He got down one knee and bowed his head, and like a wave the thousands of people around them followed suit, until the hobbits were the tallest people in Gondor.

High up above, Saphira roared and let loose a jet of flame, startling many only for them to stand and start cheering again. Aragorn gestured for the hobbits to come with him and, spotting Eragon, invited him too. They walked back to the citadel and Aragorn mounted the steps once more to announce, to the crowds' delight, "Let the feast begin!"

* * *

The party went on and on. When the highest level had cleared a bit, Saphira came down to the courtyard, and like they had at the Varden camps, children clambered all over her like the mighty dragoness was nothing more than a plaything. It made Eragon's heart swell with love for his partner to see her so gentle.

The feast was as good as any Eragon had ever seen, considering the circumstances. There was food and ale aplenty, and the songs continued well into the night. Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry even gave a rousing rendition of 'The Green Dragon' to thunderous applause.

Unable to fit into any of Minas Tirith's buildings, Aragorn made sure that Saphira wasn't left out. The party was brought out into the courtyard, as well as several barrels of ale specifically for the dragoness. It was the first and last time that anyone in Middle Earth had seen a dragon drunk.

* * *

Eragon spent the following three days gathering supplies for the journey home. Not only did he need to get food for himself, he also needed some new clothes and he had to make some repairs to Saphira's saddle. The months upon months of flying and recent battles had worn some pieces down to the extent that they needed to be fixed before they could go on another long journey.

The day before Eragon and Saphira left, Legolas approached him with some of the elves who were at the coronation.

"Eragon, I am glad we found you," Legolas said. "We have a gift for your journey." One of the elves beside him stepped forward and handed Eragon several leaf-wrapped packs. Lembas.

"Thank you," Eragon said earnestly. "This will help me greatly. Can I ask, how do you make lembas?"

"It is a very complicated process, and not one that we elves usually share," Legolas said cautiously. One of his fellows put their hand on his shoulder. "But we will make an exception for you," he finished. "Cayhlan is the best of us. He should explain."

Legolas stepped back, and the elf who handed Eragon the lembas started to talk. "It is as Legolas said, the process is long and complicated. I am not sure how well you will understand it."

"What if you explained it a different way?" Eragon suggested. "With your permission, I can look into your mind. If you recall the memory of you making the lembas, I will be able to see exactly what you did. And I swear to you that I will not look at anything in your mind you do not want me to."

Cahylan looked to Legolas. "You can trust him," the blond-haired elf said. "Eragon is true to his word. He will not do anything without your permission."

"Then yes," Cahylan said, turning back to Eragon, "I will explain this way. How do I do it?"

"Just close your eyes and concentrate on the memory of making the lembas. Relive it. Remember what you saw, how it smelled, what you heard. Go through every step in your mind. Tell me when you begin."

Eragon reached out with his mind, finding Cahylan's and tuning in to the memory that was coming to the fore.

"Now," Cahylan said.

Eragon watched closely as Cahylan took him through each stage of baking the lembas, from choosing the ingredients to the songs sung as they cooked in the fire. The memory was over soon and Eragon stored it away, noting every detail.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"You are welcome." Cahylan bowed his head.

That evening, Eragon had his final meal in Minas Tirith with his friends. The conversation was light, with everyone telling stories from their past. Aragorn spoke of his travels as a Ranger, Legolas of his childhood in Mirkwood and Gimli of the rejuvenated Dale and Erebor. The hobbits shared tales of the Shire and its people, Gandalf talked of his many fireworks and Eragon shared some stories of his adventures in the Spine.

It was late in the night when Aragorn stood and raised his glass.

"I want to thank you Eragon, not only on my behalf, but on the behalf of every man in Gondor – "

" – and Rohan," said Theoden, raising his glass.

"And Rohan – " Aragorn started, only to be interrupted again.

"And of all the hobbits in the Shire," Pippin added.

"And the elves," Legolas stated

"Aye," Gimli agreed, "And of all the dwarves in the land."

"On behalf of every person in Middle Earth then," Gandalf said dryly.

"Indeed," said Aragorn, with a twinkle in his eye. "Well then, on behalf of every person in Middle Earth, I thank you Eragon. Whether we would have won this war without the help of you and Saphira, I do not know, but you saved countless numbers of my people's lives, and that debt can never be repaid. To Eragon and Saphira!" He raised his glass and drank.

"To Eragon and Saphira!" they echoed.

"And I would like to thank you," Eragon said to Aragorn, "For trusting us, and for letting us help. Not every man would have made that decision. To Aragorn!" Eragon raised his cup and drained it.

"To Aragorn!" they echoed again. There was silence as they drank, only to be interrupted by a tired roar from outside. They laughed into the night.

* * *

As Eragon returned to his quarters and sat on his bed, he realised it would be the last time he would sleep in a bed for months. He had one more thing to do before he could savour his last night of proper sleep however.

He once again took out his mirror and said the words that allowed the dream-stare. A room appeared. A seemingly empty room.

"Hello? Is there anyone there? Hello?" Eragon called. He could hear footsteps getting louder and louder until someone skidded into view. A young boy stood panting, but as soon as he saw who was in the mirror he straightened up and tried his best to look impressive.

"My Lord, Queen Nasuada is at court. I can tell her you are here if you like."

"Rider Eragon is fine. And yes, that would be great, thank you." Eragon hated the title of Lord – it made him feel like a stuffy, old man. He had to wait about fifteen minutes before the door of the room opened again and Nasuada came sweeping in.

"Eragon! Is everything all right?" she began.

"Yes, everything is fine. The war here is over. We won. There is no threat to Alagaesia."

"Oh, thank the gods," she said, visibly relieved. "That's the best news I've had in weeks! And yourself and Saphira? You're both ok?"

"We're fine now. Actually, tomorrow we're leaving. We're returning home."

"I am glad," said Nasuada after a pause. Alagaesia needs the Riders, Eragon. And the dragons."

"We know, Your Grace."

"Well then. If you'll excuse me, Eragon, I must tell the Council this news. And I'm sure you have other people to talk to," she said knowingly.

"I do. Stay safe, Nasuada."

"And you, Eragon."

The mirror once again reflected his own face. "Draumr kopa."

"Orik," Eragon greeted.

The dwarf's head shot up from the plate of food he had been concentrating on.

"Ehgun!" he shouted, his mouth full. He swallowed and tried again. "Eragon! How are you, mine brother? Do I take your presence in the mirror to mean that you have won?" Orik was trying his best to appear nonchalant, but Eragon knew that he was genuinely worried.

"Yes," Eragon said, putting his friend out of his misery. "No danger will come to the Beors from this land."

"That is fantastic news! You have saved knurlan everywhere, and they do not even know it! Guntera is truly proud of you, mine brother," Orik said with a smile.

"I am glad," Eragon answered. "I am leaving tomorrow, Orik. I will be back in Alagaesia within the year."

Eragon didn't think it was possible, but Orik's grin became even wider. "This is a day of great news indeed. We will start planning the feast now!" he joked, laughing. He turned serious for a moment. "Ah, I must go Eragon. I must needs inform the Grimstborithn that we are not under immediate threat. Although," he said thoughtfully, "We might continue with strengthening our defences… Anyway," he shook his head, "Have a safe journey Eragon, and don't forget to scry me once a moon's turn!"

"I won't," Eragon grinned. "See you soon, Orik!"

The dwarf raised his tankard with a smile, and the image faded.

_Two down, two to go, _Eragon said to Saphira. She acknowledged but didn't reply.

"Draumr kopa," he intoned. A beautiful wooden room appeared – a kitchen. There was a woman stirring something in a pot, a baby on her hip.

"Katrina!" Eragon said happily.

The lady with red hair whipped around, a look of shock on her face. When she saw Eragon, the shock turned to joy.

"Eragon! I can't believe it! How are you? We're all missing you so much!"

"I'm good Katrina, I'm good. How's everyone in Carvahall doing?" He was smiling properly for the first time in months.

"Everyone is well. You wouldn't recognise the village Eragon!" She saw his face fall slightly and quickly corrected herself. "Oh, don't worry, not like that! I mean, the people are all the same, Horst's house is more magnificent than before. Most of the buildings are in the same place – they even look the same! But it's more of a town than a village now, Eragon! Roran built a stone keep on top of the hill, and the whole town has a wall around it, just in case something ever happened. And we have so many wonderful people! After the first winter, people started arriving from all over the Spine – to live in Carvahall! They said they wanted to live under Stronghammer's protection, that he could keep them safe." Eragon could see her swelling with pride, reflecting his own feelings towards his cousin.

"And how is little Ismira?" Eragon asked, trying to catch the attention the attention of the little girl on Katrina's hip.

"She's well," Katrina said fondly. "She turned two a few weeks ago." Eragon felt a pool of sadness in his stomach that he had missed it. "Ismira," Katrina said, "Ismira, look." She pointed at the mirror. "That's Uncle Eragon. Say hello."

"Ello Ehgan," Ismira said quietly.

"Hello Ismira," Eragon smiled. "Happy birthday!"

"Fank you," she said, looking straight at him, her emerald green eyes piercing through the divide.

"What age are you?" Eragon asked gently.

She looked at her mother for a second, who nodded, and then down at her hands. Slowly, she held up two fingers.

"Two?" Eragon asked. She nodded vigorously. "Woah, that's such a big age! You're a very big girl, aren't you?" Again, she nodded. "Will you do something for me?" Eragon pretend-whispered.

"What?" she whispered back.

"Will you look after your mummy and daddy?"

"Okay," she agreed eagerly. She looked up at Katrina, who had pretended not to hear.

"What did Uncle Eragon say?" Katrina asked her, smiling.

"Secret," Ismira said firmly. Eragon and Katrina both laughed.

"Katrina," Eragon asked when he had regained his breath, "Is Roran around?"

"Of course! He's just outside with Albriech and Baldor. I'll get him." She bustled out, Ismira waving goodbye over her shoulder.

Roran came in a few seconds later, smiling like an idiot and, Eragon noticed, Ismira in his arms, the little girl looking smug.

"Eragon!" Roran practically bellowed, a grin splitting his face. "It's been too long, brother."

"I know, Roran. I'm sorry, I've been busy. And so have you, so Katrina tells me," Eragon added quickly, before Roran could question him.

"Very. We've been building and farming as much as we can, trying to get Carvahall back on its feet," Roran said with a smile. "And it's better than we could have ever dreamed Eragon, it really is. Carvahall is a proper town now. We're a centre of trade in the north."

"Garrow would be proud, Roran," Eragon said simply. It was the highest compliment he could give.

"I know. He would be proud of both of us." There was silence for a few moments as the pair took in the other. "And how are you Eragon? Where are you? When are you coming home?"

Eragon laughed at all the questions. "We are a very, very long way away from Alagaesia. And tomorrow we're leaving. Tomorrow we're coming home."

"Do you hear that, Ismira?" Roran said delightedly to his daughter. "Uncle Eragon is coming home!"

"Yay!" she squealed. "Uncle Ehgan and Spheera! Uncle Ehgan and Spheera!"

The cousins laughed at the little girl's enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry I missed her birthday, Roran."

His cousin shrugged. "There's no point in apologising Eragon. You can't help these things."

"Well even so, I am sorry. Is it alright if I send her a present?"

"Of course," Roran said, bemused. "But how?"

"You'll see," Eragon winked. "I have to go Roran. I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye Eragon. Stay safe."

"Bye bye Uncle Ehgan." Ismira waved at him.

"Bye Ismira," Eragon said. "Remember our secret!"

The last thing he saw was his little red-headed niece giggling to herself and Roran's confused face.

_Come on Eragon, hurry up. You need to sleep._

_Alright, you overprotective lizard._

_Hey! _Saphira said indignantly.

Eragon was chuckling as he said the words for the last time that night. "Draumr kopa."

A nearly empty council room appeared, the long oak table deserted but for one figure.

"Lord Dathedr," he said.

The elf turned his head towards the sound, seemingly not startled by his voice. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon Shur'tugal."

"Atra du evarínya ono varda, Däthedr-vodhr."

"What can I do for you, Lord Eragon?"

"I would speak with Queen Arya, if I may."

"Of course. I will let her know you wish to speak with her," Dathedr said formally.

One minute the hall was empty, and the next she was staring back at him.

Eragon opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.

"So," Arya said icily, "You're not dead."

"What?" Eragon said, completely taken aback. "No, I'm not – "

"Well then why didn't you scry before now? You said if you won the battle you contact me. You said it would be just over a week. It has been three weeks Eragon. I thought you were dead," she finished furiously.

Eragon was speechless. He didn't know what to say and he was sure that if he did say something he would probably make it worse.

_She's right you know, _Saphira said. _And I did tell you to scry them last week._

_I know, but still…this seems unreasonable._

_Is it Eragon? If it was the other way around, would you be so calm? If you though Arya was dead, and then it turned out that she wasn't, that she had put off telling you that she had survived a battle and was in fact alive, would you be so forgiving? She is angry because she cares._

_What do I do? This is not how I wanted this to go._

_Apologise. Now._

"I am sorry, Arya. I really am."

"You should be," she said, and he saw a single tear slip down her cheek.

He searched desperately for something to say. "We're leaving tomorrow. Me and Saphira. We're coming home."

"How long will you be?" she asked, her tone softened ever so slightly.

"Eight months, I'd say. Maybe a bit more or less."

"Eight months," she repeated quietly. "Fírnen will be glad to see Saphira."

Eragon smiled sadly. "And she, him. And I, you. I've missed you, Arya."

"Yes well, if you miss me so much, tell me if you're alive next time or I may kill you myself." She smiled at him. "I miss you too, Eragon. Friends should not be apart this long."

_Friends, _he thought.

"No," he agreed. "They shouldn't."

They simply stared at each other for a while, and it was only when the tension became too much that Arya said, "Safe trip, Eragon. Give Saphira my regards."

Before he could even say 'Goodbye,' she disappeared.

_Eight months, _Eragon thought as he drifted off to sleep. _Just eight months…_

* * *

Eragon and Saphira expected to slip off quietly that morning, to say their goodbyes and leave. Just like that. But somehow word of their departure had spread, and a sizeable crowd was waiting to see them off.

As Eragon sat on Saphira's back, he looked out at the people who had come, many of them soldiers he had saved and their families. He spotted Jenny standing in the crowd and gave her a wave and a smile, the friendly healer returning both.

He sighed and looked down at those closest to them. Last night, he had received gifts from each of them. Gimli gave him a smooth stone with the dwarvish word for 'friend' carved on to it. A rune stone, he called it. From Gandalf, he received a bag of fireworks – only to be used, he was told, at a very special occasion. Legolas had already given him the gift of lembas. Eomer handed him a beautifully carved piece of wood showing the Riders of Rohan on their horses, ready for battle. The hobbits had two gifts; the first was a pipe and a bag of Longbottom Leaf, pillaged from Isengard. Although Eragon didn't smoke, the gift reminded him of Brom, and who knew? Maybe in a hundred years he would like to try the pipe! The second gift was for Saphira; with the help of the other members of the fellowship, the hobbits had written her a book of riddles. Saphira was delighted with it. The final gift was from Aragorn. Knowing Eragon's thirst for knowledge, he had presented him with a very rare book: the History of Middle Earth.

The hobbits and Saphira were all having one last game of riddles, each trying to outdo the other. He hated to end it.

"Well, I guess we'd better get going. We've a long journey ahead of us."

Saphira leaned down and touched her snout to each of the hobbits' heads.

"Thank you again," Aragorn said to the pair.

Eragon smiled. "This is your time," Eragon said to them all. "This is your age. Let it be remembered for all of history as the most successful age Middle Earth has had."

They smiled back up at him, with sadness and with hope.

Saphira shuffled her wings, clearing the space around her. She crouched, her legs tensing, and then leaped, propelling herself a hundred feet into the sky before she had to bring her wings down. She flapped hard, momentarily suspended in the morning sky as gravity fought against her. But as she always did, the sapphire dragoness won the battle with nature. As she rose higher, she circled the city below.

Eragon glanced down and saw the people cheering, his friends waving. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the white tree of Gondor. No longer was it dead. New growth was erupting along every branch. Gondor would continue. The Age of Men would flourish and succeed.

Saphira roared, the sound echoing off the stone city, and breathed a jet of fire, the blue flame scorching the air. The cheering below intensified as Saphira turned herself mid-air, angling her body towards Alagaesia, its whereabouts a constant presence in her mind.

She roared again as she flapped hard, gaining speed as she flew, a flash of blue streaking across the sky. Towards home.

**AN That's it! There's one very short chapter left. I hope you liked it**** Let me know what you think! Nym x**


	17. Epilogue

**AN Thank you so much for the follows, favourites and reviews!**

**Epilogue**

They flew for seven months. Once they left Middle-Earth and passed over the sea, Saphira pointed herself in the general direction of Hedarth (or so she said). Like before, they passed over lakes and plains, forests and deserts, the Rider and Dragon speeding over the changing scenery far below.

Eragon kept Saphira occupied throughout their journey by testing her with riddles from the book the hobbits had gifted her – they had kindly thought to write the answers underneath, for Eragon's benefit, he was sure.

The day was like any other, Eragon had given Saphira a new riddle that morning, and as noon rolled around she was still puzzling over it. The months together let them become closer than ever before, so Eragon noticed when Saphira's attention shifted from the riddle to something new, although he didn't know what it was.

She suddenly tipped one wing down, quickly changing direction.

_Saphira! What is it? What's wrong?_

Nothing. No answer. Something was clouding her mind.

_It is primal, Eragon. She cannot hear you, _Umaroth said, the first time the ancient dragon had spoken in months and months. _The wild dragon in her has sensed something._

Eragon accepted the elder's words. There was nothing malicious blocking their connection. It was, as Umaroth said, purely instinct. He would have to wait and see where she was going. He had no choice.

They flew in silence for several hours, Eragon trusting Saphira even if they couldn't talk. A silver disc appeared on the horizon, which soon turned into either the biggest lake Eragon had ever seen or an ocean. From the lack of waves, Eragon would bet on the former.

As they approached the lake, Saphira started to descend, and it was only when they were a few feet above the surface that Eragon realised her intentions. He had just enough time to cast a spell to ensure that all their belongings wouldn't be soaked before she dived.

The watery world was crystal clear, and the deep lake was full of big, curious fish who clearly had never seen a dragon before. As such, Eragon felt a bit bad when Saphira snapped up several of the unsuspecting creatures.

She swam for a few more minutes, her large tail acting as a powerful rudder. Finally she breached, bobbing along the surface like a very large, very blue duck. Her mind was clear.

_I am sorry, Eragon. I did not mean to cut you off like that._

_It's fine Saphira. You couldn't help it. But do you know why you were going this way?_

_Not really…it's on the edge of my thoughts…I just can't grasp it, _she said, frustratedly shaking her head. _But I know that whatever it was, it was driving me towards the centre of this lake. There is something there we need to see._

_Well let's go then. Are you ready?_

_Always._

With a new urgency, Saphira went onwards. She flew high above the clouds, the thinner air allowing her to fly faster. Before long, Eragon couldn't see land in any direction. The lake was huge.

Night fell, but Saphira took no notice of it. Eragon didn't question her. He could feel something building inside of him, a sense of anticipation.

They flew through the blackest part of the night, and finally it began to brighten. Far, far below, the pair could see the lake stretching in every direction, the black water slowly turning golden with the rising sun. On and on they went, excitement bubbling inside them both, but neither saying a word, until suddenly,

_Look, _Saphira said, barely able to contain herself. She directed his eyes to the horizon. Land.

Eragon didn't think she had the energy, but Saphira went faster. Eragon watched with silent delight as the new land spread out before his eyes, growing in size and magnificence as they approached.

Saphira and Eragon felt the Eldunarí extending their minds, searching and scouring the earth before them for anything and everything.

Eventually the landscape below them turned from lake to land, and still Saphira flew until soon the lake disappeared from view.

This new land was – in Eragon's opinion, and Saphira's too – more interesting than Du Weldenvarden. It wasn't just and endless forest. Yes, the island had forests, but it also had plains and mountains, valleys and lakes, caves and cliffs.

_I wonder how big it is… _Saphira said.

_We can answer your question, if you wish, _Umaroth answered her.

_Yes please, Master, _Saphira said excitedly.

_Very well, _the ancient dragon began. _We believe that the lake you flew over is about twice the size of the Hadarac desert, and that this island is five or six times the size of Vroengard._

There was silence for a while as the Rider and Dragon took this in. The sheer size of the island was astounding.

_And as far as we can tell, _Umaroth continued after a few minutes, _there are no humans, elves, dwarves, urgals or anything resembling any of them living on the island. We are alone._

Eragon and Saphira said nothing as they continued to fly towards the centre of the island, they just their felling and emotions flow across their bond. They knew in their hearts what they had found.

They flew towards a group of mountains that formed a ring, much like those surrounding Dou Araeba. While most of the mountains were of the same height as those in the Spine, three of the twelve in the ring were like the mountains in the Beors.

Saphira soared through a gap between two of the mountains and started to descend. Eragon guessed it was about five leagues from one side of the ring to the other. The land between the mountains was both forests and fertile looking plains – perfect for farming, the farmer in him noted. There were also rivers and lakes scattered throughout, and looking at the landscape before him, Eragon felt a warm feeling in the pit of his belly.

Saphira lazily spiralled down and landed with a thump, announcing her presence to this new land as only a dragon can do. A shiver ran through her body as her paws touched the earth, jolting Eragon in his saddle.

They listened to the silence, broken only by the happy chirping of birds and a bubbling brook nearby.

_Well, _Eragon said. _What do you think?_

_Home, _Saphira said simply.

_Home, _Eragon repeated happily.

Saphira roared, the first of many dragons to do so in this place. Her joyful greeting to her new home drowned out Eragon's victorious shout, and the Eldunarí lent their voices to the cacophony. After a hundred years of near-extinction, the dragons finally had hope.

They had a home.

**AN Well, that's it! It's finally over! I really hope you liked the ending! Please let me know what you think, of this chapter and the whole story, even if you're reading this months later.  
Now, dear readers, I need your advice. I plan on doing another Eragon story – in this world, so a continuation of sorts. My dilemma is whether to do a story following Eragon as he literally builds their new home and that takes in the first few new Riders and Dragons, as well as ongoing relationships with certain people, OR skip forward a few hundred years and take it from there. What would you prefer?  
Thank you so much for reading, it's been a pleasure! Love, Nym x**


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